Seir stares at me in disbelief for a few seconds, while the snoring of the attendant interrupts the silence.

“Did you hit your head again?” he asks.

“No,” I say, shaking my head to show. “I know it sounds unbelievable but I’m a Seer.”

“No, I understand that part. But even Seers can be wrong, or at least wrongly interpret a vision, or dream ro-“

“This was no wrong interpretation. And it was no dream. It was a vision, as vivid as if I was there myself. There was no ambiguity. It was certain mutually assured destruction."

“Okay.” He drags out the word lengthily with a trail of doubt. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“It has everything to do with you,” I say. “Because you're the only one who can save us."

His disbelief only grows.

"Oh come now," I say. "You believe in alchemy and such but you don’t trust my vision?”

“It's not that I don’t trust it, it’s that it seems absolutely out of this world crazy to think of me as a great hero.” He adjusts his glasses, a nervous tic I'm starting to realize, and shrugs. “I’ve never been that important a person.”

"That’s where you’re wrong,” I stare him in the eyes. "From a young age, you’ve always had a natural curiosity about things, and you've always held an intelligence that defied expectation and led some to call you a young genius and others to call you insane. By eleven years old, you'd mastered multiple languages just from reading your father's scrolls. At twelve, started experimenting with potions and mixtures, some of which you even use in your practice today without the King's knowledge. After your father's death, you were brought to the palace to help care for the King's leg and you helped him get rid of a particularly troublesome boil, using only a few herbs. You've been in his employ ever since."

“How do you know all that about me?” he asks, looking spooked.

Because you told me in the future. You babbled your entire life story on and on until you nearly drove me crazy with it.

Seir and I shared the same Pangean prison for some time while I was locked up, and he was perhaps my longest cellmate in captivity, followed closely by Wolf’s mother. I couldn’t talk much to Wolf's mother because by that time, the captivity had driven her a little mad and she only had brief moments of lucidity.

Therefore, most of my conversations were with Seir.

Unlike Errila and I who were behind metal bars, Seir was held behind a metal door. I could only see his eyes occasionally and his hands fidgeting with each other, as though they needed to keep himself occupied or he would go crazy. He’d been happy to have a new cellmate he could talk to, because he’d been bored to death with no one to tell his brilliance.

And even though it drove me mad sometimes, Seir's chatter was my only distraction in captivity.

I only saw his face the day he was taken away and it was one of the saddest days I experienced in that prison.

But I'll save him this time. And with him, I'll save them all.

“I know it because I saw it,” I told him. “I can see past, present, and future and lately, Seir, you're the one I’ve had the most visions about, even before we met.”

"Wow.” He sounds bemused. "I guess I should be flattered."

“It’s not about flattery,” I say. “I’m serious Seir. I’m not lying to you. I can tell you things to prove it. Like I know you used to wet the bed till you were six and were kept in a cellar as punishment. I know your father was a mage from a Western province, with middling powers that caused other mages to look down on him. And I know that during the visit of the Pangeans, one of the envoys will fall sick and you will be asked to treat them. After their treatment, the king will call you to his office and ask very specific questions about the symptoms they presented with."

Seir looks spooked but keeps going. This is too important. “The story goes downhill from there. The King starts a war that he cannot finish and we’re the ones who end up paying the price. Everyone in this village perishes. A few escape the war but then they’re caught later and then executed in whatever village they escape to. Every Northerner and Northern-affiliated village is scorched to the ground and nothing remains. That future can never come to pass. Do you understand?”

Seir eyes are wide like saucers and apprehension is in them. His glasses make them seem even wider. He takes them off, dusts them on his tunic and inhales deeply.

Then he closes the book and places it facedown in his lap.

“Alright,” he says. “I’m listening. "

I sigh and breathe to the heavens. At long last, progress.

“In the future, you use alchemy and magic to create a medicine. It’s said to heal all diseases, even the incurable ones.”

"A Cure for All Ills is one of the pieces of alchemy that are likely more fable than fiction. It's very improbable that such a thing can exist, if not impossible,” he says. “Ignoring the difficulty of balancing magic and alchemy, each disease has a different etymology and mode of development. The method needed to heal all of them is different because the diseases are as varied as humans are. How can one potion cure all?"

"That’s where the magic comes in I suppose. Magic can enhance the potency of healing potions."

"Even magic wouldn’t be able to overcome that," Seir counters. "If it was that easy, the cure would exist already."

"Perhaps it does,” I say. "Hidden away from the eyes of prying humans. Perhaps you discover it in the future.

"Perhaps," he says. "But that doesn’t help us now."

"I don’t claim to have all the answers, Seir," I say. "I don’t know how this cure is going to come into being, how to balance the alchemy and the magic. Perhaps the magic is the healing part and the alchemy changes each healing attribute the match the disease."

I'm only half serious when I say that last part, but Seir rubs his chin to consider it. "Perhaps," he murmurs after some time.

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He opens his mouth to say something and closes it thoughtfully once more.

He suddenly stands and trails his finger across the books on the fifth row of the shelf behind him.

When he doesn't find what he's looking for, he moves on to the next row and then pulls down a thick-backed book, squatting to read it.

"I mean it can't be that easy," he mutters to himself. "It would be crazy. I don’t...It cant b be true. There have been far more brilliant men than me who have walked the earth. If there was such a thing, would they not have found it?"

"Most of the brilliant men who walked this earth didn’t believe in alchemy as you did,” I point out. I don't know how or why Seir was such a strong proponent of alchemy from the beginning, but he told me in the future that he has believed in it since he was a little boy.

"Those who did believe in alchemy were often mages who were limited by their conception of magic. You are not a mage, are you?"

He shakes his head. "No. I got tested when I was younger. Very minimal mana in my system. "

He falls quiet as he continues to read the book. I don't say anything either, not wanting to distract him.

The rest of the meeting continues with the two of us bouncing ideas off each other but ultimately we have a bunch of theories but nothing concrete. Toward the end of the meeting, when Seir indicates that he has to slip back to work, I mention, “Could I also ask you a huge, possibly illegal favor?”

He eyes me cautiously. "What is it?"

“It's about a friend of mine. His mom is sick and needs a Shrewk Elixir. We managed to obtain a few feathers but we need someone to help us make the potion and I don’t trust anyone else not to go tattling to the King."

Seir thinks about it for a second and then nods. “It should be easy enough to craft a potion by myself. ‘’

I blink at him in surprise at how quickly he agreed. "Really? You’ll do it?"

“Yes." A sligh smile curls the corner of his lips. “You sound surprised. “

“I mean..." I feel obliged to point out the risks once again. "You realize it’s illegal and could get you beheaded?"

"I don’t think this crime worth a beheading. Possibly a light gentle flogging though."

I chuckle at his joke.

"Besides, as you’ve said I’m too valuable to the king to lose.”

At least for now. However, I'm not sure how Seir ends up in the Pangean Prison, if he was also traded by the King, or if he was captured after Pangea was destroyed.

"Thank you," I say and on instinct, I hug him. He seems to stiffen at first but then slowly relaxes and pats my back awkwardly.

“I mean it," I say when I release him. "Thank you so much."

He shrugs with a weak smile. "Well if I’m going to be the savior of the world, I might as well live up to my title right?”

Not long after Seir leaves, I step out of the library into the night. I pull my cloak tight around me, although even with the cold, I feel light and happy.

I release a breath and start on my way home.

Wolf falls into step beside me.

"Everything went well?"

Yes,” I respond. Seir may not have figured out how to make the cure yet, but I have full confidence he will. All the hints I dropped had been things he had said in the past that led to his discovery. I wish I paid more attention to how the actual potion worked so I could be of more help but I tuned him out during most of those rambles, awaiting another round of torture or a final death.

Still, with this much, I should at least set him on the right track. Hopefully, he'll discover how to make the potion earlier than last time.

I figure that's why the Pangeans kept him alive so that he would share his secrets with them. I don't think he eventually did. Maybe that's why they killed him.

Or maybe they killed him because he wouldn't share it.

However, if he can make the potion earlier than last time, while still in the North, then the next thing to do would be to mass-produce it. Every Northern soldier will be given a vial before they go into battle so they can revive themselves and their teammates. That will serve as a huge advantage in the war and will be the turning point.

I will also convince Seir to part with a few vials for me. I'll leave the village and then find my old friends.

“We should stop by Jace’s place," I say. “Give him the good news.”

Wolf grunts but he doesn't reject the idea outright so I take that as an ascent.

Jace told us he was staying in an inn right off the Baker's Ridge, that allowed longer-term rentals. It's a tall, slender building made of red brick with a stable at the side that serves the horses from their richer patrons. The stable is empty, which makes me wonder if they do serve richer patrons or perhaps it's just there for wishful thinking.

I approach the door and knock tentatively.

“I’m coming," a feminine voice sings a few seconds before the door swings back.

Jace’s mother examines us, surprised.

“It’s you,” she said. "The girl from the trial."

“Yes, madam, um… thank you by the way, for the handkerchief last time. I haven't had a chance to return it,”

“Keep it dear," she says warmly. “And please, call me Pamla. How are you holding up? Jace told me you passed the last trial with him. That's amazing. Very proud of you dear."

And then she reaches out and pats my hair, in that loving way I've often seen mothers do with daughters. I swallow past a sudden thickness in my throat. I still need to go give my mother my coins, but I've been delaying it for unknown reasons.

Very proud of you. It's something my mother has never said, but it's very nice to hear.

"Thank you I say." I notice though that when she pulls back, she winces a little and her hands shake as she straightens.

Still, she continues talking in that light tone, “Jace also told me how instrumental you were in him passing the third trial."

"Oh no. It's the other way around actually." I hold my hand up. "I couldn't have passed without Jace and his enhanced knowledge of bird calls."

"Ah yes. He told me that too." She chuckles again, but it sounds half-pained as her eyes finally travel to Wolf, who has not said a word.

"Hello," she tells him.

He nods his response.

"Can I talk to Jace briefly, ma'am?” I say, figuring Wolf is simply tired of the conversation.

"Of course." She turns back. "Jace! Your friend is looking for you."

Floorboards creak as someone descends a flight of stairs. Jace says,

"You don’t have to yell Mother it’s a small abode."

He catches sight of the two of us and his eyes flare in surprise. I also notice a red mark on the side of his face, like he got slapped.

His mother frowns at him, her eyes sparking with temper. "Well, on the contrary, Jasopheth, it appears I must scream out my lungs when I talk to you since you don't seem to heed me when I speak normally."

"I do hear you mother," Jace counters, looking angry himself. "Hearing you and doing what you say are two different things."

"Oh, you are just pleading for another slap Jasopheth Montaly."

"Sure, why not? Why not treat me like a punching bag? It's not like I'm your child. mother."

"Is it a bad time?" I ask, interrupting them. "Because I can come back later."

"No it's fine," Jace says as his mother shoots him glares. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Erm." I glance at him surreptitiously. "Can we talk to you in private?"

"It's fine, she knows about the Shrewk feathers already. She also knows what we did to get it. That’s how I ended up with this on my face." He points to the red handprint on his cheek.

"Oh," I say, not knowing whether to apologize or giggle. "Well, a friend of mine who is a trusted healer will be coming tomorrow to make the elixir. You can add that to any healing potion and make it several magnitudes more effective. It should make the pain vanish and could cure the disease although I'm not sure. You'd have to talk to the healer to be certain. "

"Oh." Jace's mother puts a trembling hand over her mouth and her eyes fill with emotion. "I can't believe you went through that trouble. Thank you so much. I hate that Jace has dragged you into this."

"He didn’t have to drag me," I assure her. "I wanted to help."

She beams at me, her eyes misty. "Your name is Adria, right?"

I nod.

"Fitting," she says. "It means helper, in Hakua."

"It's not Hakua." I feel the need to point this out. "It's Kabanni. It means dead bird."

"Regardless," she says taking my hand. "I will never forget this kindness for as long as I live."

I smile and nod.

"In fact, you should come in for a nightcap," she says. "You must come. Both of you." She tugs me in and I go along even though I put my hand up to reject the offer.

"Oh, I can't. I don’t want to put you out."

"You wouldn't be. Unfortunately, we're already done eating dinner but have yet to have dessert. I baked some fruit cake this morning and I can cut the two of you a slice."

"Oh, that's not nec-"

Wolf interrupts by breezing past us into the house. His steps are light barely tapping on the floorboards. I hear the scraping of a chair and judge that he has taken his seat at the table.

Jace and his mother blink in surprise, turning to me in question.

That man and his sweet tooth.

I shrug at her incredulous gaze. "I guess we’re staying for dessert."