I've been blessed with the Sight since birth. Can see things most other people cannot. Sometimes, it is a bit much, but, with Elhim's help and guidance, I have always mastered it.

I cannot ever turn off the Sight. I do not know anybody who can. So I see the ghosts, the phantoms, the shades. I see sometimes in a person what they don't even see in themselves. I can see if they are hurting, or guilty. And when someone is overflowing with joy, they practically glow with it.

And I can see when someone has suffered so much that they are literally breaking inside. It hurts me too, because, too often, I cannot relieve their pain, cannot tell them I know, cannot help them fix it. It doesn't help that just about everyone is a little bit broken inside.

Only Elhim can remake them into wholeness. It is only the followers of Elhim whose brokenness I have seen made well. It is only Elhim who can heal.

Three weeks ago or so, I met someone who is very much hurting inside. Her name is Avalon. I do not know her surname. She is a lovely-looking half-elf. Very good with a blade. But she is ruthless, and pitiless. And she is also more broken inside than anyone else I have ever met.

I wonder what has made her this way. I cannot even begin to guess. But something about her draws me, even as she tries to keep me out.

Something always grabs at my heart and twists it when I see her.

I have seen her laugh. There is weeping behind that laugh.

I have seen her smile. There is pain behind that smile.

I have seen her jest and tease Eliana, Antony, and me, but the humor behind that teasing is brittle, like she might break at any second. She is hiding some secret, I know. But she hides it well. I cannot perceive it.

She is only truly happy when she is playing her guitar. Then it seems like all her hurts fall away and she starts glowing slightly in her happiness.

And I can only see this because of the Sight.

I know that she has killed before. She slew a back-alley thug to save my life after all. But I see her hands covered with blood, coated and dripping. And she cannot see it. I see her soul break a little bit more with every person she ends, even those she slays in defense.

That too saddens me.

But I am angry as fire when she and Antony return to the Goose, no half-elf prisoner in tow. Angry as fire when Antony draws me aside and tells me what Avalon has done. I glance over at her as my friend speaks, see the calm, remorseless truth in her eyes. I can barely restrain my anger as I stride over to her and proceed to haul her up the stairs. I am going to have words with this woman. I shoulder open my bedroom door and toss her inside. My thoughts are whirling, clouded by anger, broken in segments by confusion. I thought she respected me.

The argument between us that follows can probably be heard downstairs, but I don't care. It starts out quiet, intense, but it doesn't end there. I shout, she shouts back. She offers to leave. I almost let her go. But then I see her brokenness, my heart twists inside me, and I know I cannot let her go yet. I tangle my fingers in my sandy hair.

"Don't leave." I tell her when she places her hands on my arms and offers again to go. Then I grab her shoulders, ignoring her widening eyes.

"Defy me again, and I'll personally see you to the door." I growl into her face. Then I release her and stride to the door. I look back, needing one more glimpse of her face.

"You aren't even sorry, are you?" I ask softly. A rhetorical question. The truth is in her eyes. It always is. But now, her dark, dark eyes widen, then grow shadowed with grief, past and present.

"How can I be?" She replies quietly. "I have not been for a long time. Circumstances made me thus. My conscience is gone, Daniel. Gone."

My heart breaks inside, hearing her words, and I know that her only hope is Elhim. She doesn't know that yet, but maybe I can show her.

But not now. Instead, I turn away and walk back downstairs.

Eliana, Raeldon, and Antony wait for me at a table. All three have drinks, and a fourth glass is waiting for me. I sit, pick it up, take a pull of the frothy ale.

Elhim, give me wisdom and strength. I pray silently.

"You sent her packing?" Raeldon asks, seeing that Ava did not come downstairs with me.

"No." I answer. Take another drink. Raeldon's eyes narrow in irritation. He's suspicious of most people, and terribly so of Avalon. The only reason why he tolerates her is because she saved my life. Raeldon sniffs and adjusts his robes.

He is a grumpy and dry-witted tiefling most days, and today is no exception.

"You should've, my boy." He mutters. I don't reply to that. My decisions are final.

"How-- is she?" Eliana asks, ever the soft heart. Her eyes hold none of the anger Antony's do. If Antony is the brother I never had, that sweet half-elvish lass is like a sister to me, dear to my heart.

I sigh, in response to her question.

"She is... broken. More so than most. When I left she was... not regretful... but saddened, I think. Maybe she'll change." There is faint hope in my voice. I have to cling to it, to believe it, or friendship with Avalon will mean nothing.

"With Elhim's grace, she'll change." Antony says. His anger fades. He too sighs. Swirls his drink in his glass. Looks up to meet my eyes.

"Art thou alright?" He asks.

I think for a moment.

"Yes." I answer. "But Ava... is not." I lean forward to meet my each of companions' eyes. "Do you wish I had sent her away?" I ask them. I desire honest answers, and I get them.

Antony ponders for a moment before sighing and saying,

"No... no, I do not."

"Elli?" I ask, turning to her. Her green eyes are dark with sorrow and a kindness that nobody deserves.

"No, I don't." She also answers. "She needs us, even though she thinks she doesn't. She thinks she's fine, but she's not. We have to help her see that."

I nod, glancing at Raeldon.

"I already know what you think." I tell him. He inclines his head to me. Opens his mouth to speak, but there is suddenly noise in the street outside. I rise from the table and stride to a window.

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It's Amyry. At the head of a long column of soldiers, all armed for war, trampling what civilians do not get out of their way in time. He stops in front of the tavern, looks up at someone in the window above me, and smiles maliciously.

Avalon.

The word pounds in my brain. She's in trouble, I know it. I turn away from the window and race up the stairs.

Something terrible is about to happen, I know it in my bones. I dash through my open bedroom door, see Avalon standing at the window as if frozen.

"Avalon!" I cry. Race to her and wrap my arms around her. I yank her away from the window and we crash to the ground as hell seems to break loose around us. My ears ring from the force of the fireball that exploded the wall. I feel Avalon beneath me, safe, but it is a wonder we are still alive. Pain hot enough to rival the quickly-spreading fire shoots through my arm. Avalon wriggles out from under me, stands, and hauls me to my feet. I yank the piece of wood from my upper arm, not caring about the blood that follows. My only thought is that we have to get out. Choking smoke sears my lungs. I grab my friends' packs and Ava and I hightail it out of the burning room. We make it down to the taproom alive, after a quick stop at the girls' room to retrieve their things. Ava can't seem to stop coughing. I can hear the rawness of her seared throat. She buckles as we stagger towards the door to the street. Antony, coming to meet us, catches her and supports her as we make it outside. We are the last ones out. I do a quick headcount. We are all here. I sigh, relieved.

And then the fire catches on the house next to the tavern. Two tiefling women race out, one turning back for her child, who is trapped on the second floor. The woman's friend holds her back.

I am momentarily frozen, horrified.

But not Ava. The lass dashes into the burning house, too quick for me to catch her. I follow her part of the way across the street, knowing it would be fruitless for me to go after her into the inferno. But the waiting tears me apart. I whisper desperate prayer after desperate prayer.

Please, Elhim. Please. Elhim, please.

And then my eyes widen in horror as the roof of the house caves in, in a shower of sparks.

No.

Then, miracle of miracles, Ava stumbles out, the child in her arms. I dash to her side, Antony right behind me. Ava's beautiful face is smeared with ash and soot and pocked with burns. Her hands-- her hands are a mess. Her sleeves are burned onto her forearms. Her feet are-- I dare not look down. But she is alive, and that is all that matters. Her lips are cracked and bleeding. Her chin and upper lip are stained from more than just that blood though. She continues to cough, her breath scraping in her throat.

Antony steps forward and relieves her of the child, a beautiful little girl. He carries the toddler to her mother, who is sobbing in relief. I hear them talking, but their voices fade from my ears as Ava crumples.

I catch her, cradling her in my arms. She turns her head to the side and spits out a mouthful of blood. Her eyelids flutter, sliding towards closed. I cup her face in my hand.

"Stay with me, Ava." I order, knowing I am losing her, but unwilling to let her go without a fight. Her breath fades and, as I slide my hand to her neck, her weak pulse stutters. Cold fear grips my heart.

No. She can't be dying. She will not die, not while Elhim grants me the power to heal her.

"Elhim, please, give me the strength and skill to save her." I pray. "Heal her so that she may know You."

And Elhim answers.

I mutter a healing word and push God-strengthened manna into the woman in my arms. She gasps suddenly, coming upright, her dark eyes wide and healthy and alive.

I laugh in relief, silently whispering "Thank you." in my mind. Elhim's power fades from around me as He withdraws it.

And then Amyry spurs his horse forward.

My laughter flees as anger rises up to take the place of relief. I expend manna and my flame-hued magic manifests as a mage-whip. I like the style of the mage-whip as a weapon. It's got flexibility, reach, and it is nonlethal if I wield it so.

"Hello, Avalon." Amyry purrs, looking past me. I turn, confused. How do they know each other?

But the question flees from my mind when I see Ava's face is pale and stricken with terror. Clearly, this poor excuse for a drow has hurt her in the past, perhaps horribly.

And that makes me angrier. I crack my whip before snapping it at Amyry. He takes the strike on his armored forearm, and the whip curls there. I yank, setting my weight. I need him out of the saddle.

Amyry yanks back.

I stumble forward, surprised and off-balance. Behind me I hear boots slapping on cobblestones as my friends and a few townsfolk rush to help me.

But Amyry sweeps us all aside with a sudden gust of mage-wind. I slam into a wall, hearing the crack of bone as I hit. Then I fall to the ground, hissing and groaning in pain. The hurt is intense. My vision wavers and blurs. Groaning, I try to leaver myself to my feet. Then suddenly, I am bound to the ground by crackling, white mage-tethers. I cannot move. I am forced to watch as Amyry stalks toward Ava.

"No!" I want to shout. But I don't have the strength.

And then Amyry's stronghold's roof is blasted into the air by a whole lot of power at once. It's obliterated into debris ranging in size anywhere from rocks and jagged beams the size of horses to pebbles and dust. It is the pebbles and splinters and dust that rain down on us.

Amyry is instantly distracted from Avalon. Whatever happened, I'm grateful. An intervention by Elhim, it appears, though I could not begin to guess who or what He's using.

The drow teleports away, back to his castle, I assume. With him gone, Ava shakes off her reverie and turns toward me. I feel the siphoning of the manna even from here, and suddenly, the mage-bonds are gone.

From all of us. And then, before I can stand, Ava has pulled out her little slate marble and teleported away as well.

To where, I don't know. Something tells me the castle, though. And that leaves me wondering why.

I stagger to my feet as Amyry's soldiers close in. Elhim's power fills me, healing me and giving me strength. In an instant, my mage-whip is back and longer than ever, and I have drawn my sword this time too. I send out a blast of healing manna to my friends and those who stayed to help me fight. Then I am engaged in a deadly dance, in the clamor and heat of battle. My mage-whip snaps and cracks, jerking weapons out of hands, yanking feet out from under people, binding together hands and dragging those hands' owners close to me so I can club them on the head.

The instant any one of my people suffers a wound, I heal it. When an enemy goes down unconscious, I send them into a deep sleep. I truly do hate killing. I do it when I absolutely have to, but I will always hate how it tears at my soul.

My friends have no such qualms, and in a way, I envy them. Still, my aversion to death is a blessing. A kindness. A mercy.

I execute justice when the situation calls for it. I would not hesitate to end a murderer or other such ilk. But these soldiers are just following orders. I will deal with their other faults later.

The battle is over a short time later, leaving us the victors. The townspeople emerge from their homes, hailing us as heroes. But I have no time for their adoration.

I turn on my heel and sprint toward the now-roofless castle. A quick glance over my shoulder shows me that Eliana and Antony are with me. As always.

We reach the stronghold, pick our way through the shattered gates, and through rubble and bodies drained completely of manna. The castle is deathly silent.

"Avalon!" I shout, cupping my hands over my mouth. Fear claws at my heart. Where could she be? If she is not here, where else would I look?

"Avalon!" Antony and Eliana echo me, their voices overlapping.

"Here!" A young female voice calls back a moment later, distant and muffled.

Ava.

I make my way as fast as I can through the crumbling walls of the castle to the huge double doors of what looks like the throne room. The doors are cracked open, blocked with rubble. A pale hand is struggling to shift the stones and beams out of the way. Ava's face appears in the gap.

Eliana, Antony, and I work as quickly as we can, moving the debris just enough for the doors to crack open just a little bit wider. I grab Ava's arms and pull her clear, before folding her in my embrace.

She's pale, drawn. Looks tired and sad. Looking past her into the room, I can see the dark body of a decapitated drow lying against the far wall.

Did she do that? I wonder. Or did someone else? Maybe the person who blew off the roof?

But I don't ask her. Looking into her face, I don't have the heart. She leans into me, soft and warm and-- thank Elhim-- alive. I hold her tight and never want to let go.

But eventually I do. Let Antony and Eliana give their embraces. Ava seems surprised at their caring.

And then I lead her out of the castle, into a noisy throng of joyful people. It seems that they want to make me lord over the city. I accept their adoration, try to point them to Elhim. I don't know if they listen or not. I refuse the honor of lordship.

We're leaving this city. Today. I am done with it, and I cannot stay here after what has happened.

I wrap my arm around Ava's shoulders as Raeldon walks up leading a string of our horses.

I lift Ava into her saddle and she mutely gathers up her reins.

"Are you alright?" I ask. She nods, not looking at me. She lies, but I let her be. She always says she's alright. She never truly is though.

I mount my own horse, my friends doing likewise. I wheel the mare gently in the street, look my companions in the eye.

"Let's get out of this place." I say, and then we ride out.