I stalk out of D’Adrian’s palace, flanked by Antony and Eliana and surrounded by a company of guards, retrieving Raeldon on the way, anger and grief warring for dominance inside me. That stubborn, fools-cursed man! Why ever will he not see reason? Surely he sees that the High Clans are banding together, rising against him. That he cannot stand against their combined might. They will sweep him away like so much chaff in the wind. And there will be almost no one left to grieve for him. Maybe no one at all.

Maybe his men would grieve him, for a time. They seem fanatically loyal to him for some reason.

I muse over that for a time as we ride out of D’Adrian’s lands in the company of his garrison captain and fifty men. A hefty escort, but I guess D’Adrian doesn’t like taking chances.

That pops a question into my mind that stirs my curiosity: what does the lord of the North like?

As we ride, I mentally sift through what I know of the man.

He’s ruthless. Cunning. Doesn’t care who he kills or why.

Rumor has it, he has a sister, but no one has ever seen her. I wonder what happened to her. Did he love her?

Did he kill her?

… Some say that the infamous assassin known only as the Lone Wolf sometimes works for him.

So he pays well, which means he’s got a lot of gold.

Maybe that’s why his men stay loyal to him?

But what actually drives him?

I sigh. This is convoluted, frustrating work. Trying to understand D’Adrian is like trying to understand a 4D chess game played at hyper-speed.

My poor brain feels twisted inside out.

I stop focusing on the physical side of things and start parsing out what my Sight has seen of his soul.

My grief wins out over my anger at him in the end. D’Adrian’s soul is even more shattered than Ava’s is. I cannot even begin to imagine why their souls are so broken. Is there a connection between them, I wonder?

I remember D’Adrian’s hands. They too, like Ava’s, were coated and dripping with ghostly blood. More like streaming, actually.

I frown. What has gone on in the past that I know nothing of? I need some answers.

And I know where I might find some. Ava said that she used to be acquainted with D’Adrian. She was able to tell me some things about him, but I could tell she was holding back. Not, lying, exactly, just… omitting.

Maybe she knows what went on in D’Adrian’s past.

Maybe she’ll tell me what went on in her own. Maybe I’ll finally know why her soul is so broken and her hands are so bloodied.

Speaking of bloodied hands and broken souls, there was one other person in that throne room who was one of the three most hurting people I have ever met.

Ava and D’Adrian are two.

But this new person was a drow, male, and definitely an assassin. D’Adrian’s personal executioner, it seems.

This fellow’s ebony-hued hands were only slightly less dripping with blood than D’Adrian’s. And his soul…

Almost seemed familiar. Like I’ve met him before.

But I haven’t. Not that I remember, leastways.

This new mystery gives my mind something to chew on for the rest of the trip to the Northern border. At the border, D’Adrian’s captain leaves us.

“Come back, and we’ll shoot you on sight.” The tiefling fellow growls.

Antony gives him a mocking salute as he, Eliana, and Raeldon ride off. I linger for just a moment. This tiefling fellow is hurting inside. And compassion is my calling.

“I see you.” I tell him, and he pales, his eyes wide as he realizes what I mean.

“If you ever have need of assistance,” I offer with all sincerity, “send for the paladin Daniel vor Elhim. If I am able, I will come. My word on it.”

The captain’s half-frightened posture turns into a suspicious glare directed at me. Then he sniffs, spits, growls an order to his men, and rides off without answering me.

I sigh. So many hurting souls, and there’s only so much I can do for them. Leaving everything in Elhim’s hands is both exhilaratingly freeing and frightening at the same time.

Not that I could be in control if I tried. And I don’t want to try either. I am perfectly content in leaving it all up to my God.

It’s a three-day trek on horseback to Ciliren, where Ava awaits us. As we ride into town, I can’t help but notice the hastily repaired city walls, the rubble lying around, the hard faces and weapons carried by almost everyone. Some houses have been abandoned, some are halfway destroyed. As we ride through, mothers grab children and usher them inside their homes, giving us fearful, suspicious glances. The children themselves are sober, and we hear none of the usual chatter and laughter that should accompany their play. The men follow their wives and stand guard at the doors of their homes, hands on their weapons. Their expressions are not so much fearful as angry. The town’s suspicion of us is so thick I can almost feel it, the tension in the air.

What happened here?

The clop of our horses’ hooves on the cobblestone streets sound unnaturally loud in the quiet. On the main street I rein in next to the smithy, even the clanging of the blacksmith’s hammer is ceased by our arrival.

“Good sir, would you be willing to point us to an inn?” I ask politely from the saddle. The half-orc glares up at me for a moment before jerking his head at the far end of the street.

“’Tis there. Only inn in town.” He grunts. I incline my head to him.

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“Thank you.”

He merely grunts again, spitting in the dirt before resuming his work. The cacophony of his hammer on the anvil follows us up the street. I look up at the inn sign as I dismount in front of the building. The hanging wooden board creaks slightly in the near-nonexistent breeze and proudly proclaims the inn to be the Boar's Rest.

The building itself is built of the same yellowish stone as the city walls are, with a thatch roof. It’s a one-story affair, and not very big. It likely has only a few rooms to rent. The few windows that dot the walls are glass so grimy that I cannot see through to the interior. One window is completely boarded over.

Antony, Eliana, Raeldon, and I tie our horses’ reins to the hitching rail by the wall of the inn. I give Ava’s horse a pat on the nose and hope she’s here and ready to ride the beast.

The town slowly goes back about its business as we enter the inn. I open the thick, wooden door and usher my companions inside.

“Be right with ya!” Calls a gruff voice from the kitchen in the back. At the second hour of the afternoon, the Boar's Rest is fairly quiet. In fact, there is only one other patron besides us.

“Hello, Daniel.” Ava says with a strained smile, rising from a table in the back corner. She nods to my companions. “Antony, Eliana…. Raeldon.”

Raeldon grunts noncommittally. Antony inclines his head to Ava. Eliana sweeps past me and hugs her tightly. A startled expression covers Ava’s face before she slowly returns the embrace.

“Hello, Ava.” I reply, genuinely happy to see her. I step forward and wrap her in my embrace as soon as Eliana releases her. Ava stiffens, surprised.

But she slowly relaxes and returns my hug. I feel her sigh, and then her arms tighten around my ribs and she leans into me. Then, abruptly, she pulls away, and crosses her arms over her chest, her face unreadable.

“So, how did it go?” She asks. “Did you get D’Adrian to listen?”

I smile in reply, noting her slightly uncomfortable stance. “Can we talk? In private?”

She narrows her eyes at me, wariness and something else in her eyes. Guilt?

“Of course.” She says after a minute. “I have a room. We can speak there.”

She turns and leads the way out of the taproom and down a hallway lined with closed doors on one side. She stops in front of the fifth— and last— door and unlocks it. Pushes it open and motions me inside.

I step in and scan the sparse room. A grimy window lets in a muted version of the sunlight outside. A neatly made bed looks untouched. Ava’s knapsack sits in a corner of the room. A small table graces the wall beneath the window. A clay pitcher and basin are on the table, bone-dry.

The room looks like Ava hasn’t been in it hardly at all.

I turn from studying the room to find Ava studying me. Her eyes are still wary, her stance guarded, but she seems slightly more open.

More like the Ava I know.

I take her elbow and lead her to the bed, sitting us both down.

“D’Adrian didn’t listen.” I tell her. “He utterly rejected the High Clans’ proposal and banished me from his lands after subtly threatening to send his assassin after me.”

Is it just me, or did she just flinch?

I lock gazes with her. Ava’s eyes are unreadable; it’s like a wall is hiding her true emotions from me. About the only one that shows through is wariness. She sits beside me, tense and still.

She’s always tense and guarded whenever we talk about D’Adrian.

“Ava,” I say, “I have the Sight.”

This time she does flinch. She shifts away from me slightly.

“I’ve seen—“ I begin, and she lifts her chin, her wary expression changing to include stubbornness and a bit of… fear?

“— D’Adrian’s broken soul.” I finish. Ava relaxes, her gaze softening in sadness.

So she does know something.

“And I’ve seen yours.” I tell her quietly, laying my hand over hers. Ava’s eyes widen, and she yanks her hand out from under mine. She stands abruptly and strides to the window. She stares through the grimy glass, her back purposefully turned to me.

“What do you want from me, Daniel?” Her voice is colder and harder than I’ve ever heard it directed at me.

“I want to know what happened.” I tell her softly, kindly. I want her to know that I see her. The real her. And that I care, and that I’m not going to let her suffer alone.

“What happened when?” She asks. Annoyance flashes through me for a split second.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Ava.” I say somewhat sternly, then soften my voice. “Please.”

She sighs, turns away from the window, back to me.

“Fine. You want to know what happened to make D’Adrian’s soul so shattered.”

“And yours.”

She adopts a long-suffering expression. “And mine, apparently. Though I don’t see why I matter so much.”

“You’ll always matter, Ava.” I tell her. Her gaze softens, but she makes no comment on that statement.

“Daniel, what makes you think I know what happened in D’Adrian’s past?”

“Ava, please.” I say, determined to go gently. “Don’t do this to me. I thought you had more respect for me than that. Let there be no deception between us. We both know you know more about D’Adrian than you’ve told me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. “Fine. Fine.” She pauses, goes to speak, then closes her mouth again. A pained expression crosses her face.

“It— is not pleasant.” She says at last, casting her gaze to the floor. But not before I see the sheen of tears over her eyes. A sudden realization strikes me.

“You were there, weren’t you?” I say. Her head snaps up.

“There… when?” She asks warily.

“You were at the event that made and broke D’Adrian.” I clarify. She relaxes somewhat. Turns her gaze to the window, wringing her hands in front of her.

“… I was. That’s where… I first met him. It was the event that made and broke both of us, I suppose you could say.”

I stand and approach her. Take her hands in mine.

“I’m sorry, Ava.” I tell her softly, letting her know she has my sympathy and my support. Whatever happened must have been horrible. “I’m sorry for dredging up those memories.”

She gives a harsh laugh. “You’re the one who asked.” She says almost bitterly. Sighs, and looks me in the eyes. “The ones who used to rule the North killed D’Adrian’s parents after exercising on them cruelties unimaginable. They killed my parents too. Same night. Same village. Same methods.”

I remember hearing about the villages burned and massacred by the Northern raiders. The stories I’ve been told are… horrible, to say the least.

“I’m so sorry.” I move to embrace Ava, but she tugs her hands out of mine and steps out of my reach.

“So,” I say instead, adding pieces to the puzzle in my head, “You know him from when you were children…”

She winces, looking away. “And… later.”

“You used to work for him.” It’s not a question. “Then you rebelled or did something he didn’t like.”

I’m getting closer to the truth. I can tell by her expression.

“What did he pay you to do?” I ask.

And… there it is. I’ve hit something. Ava’s face closes off all expression. She shakes her head.

“Daniel, you do not want me to answer that question.”

“I do.” I do.

“No, you don’t.”

“Ava, I do. Tell me. Please.”

“No.” Her tone is final.

“Fine. Don’t tell me, then.” I can’t help but feel some frustration. I start sifting the puzzle pieces out loud, my gaze on her face.

“You’re a spy, you’ve told me that. And you’re very good with a blade. You have no problem with killing. You gathered information for him?”

Her eyes widen with each statement.

“Daniel, please…”

“You’ve likely done some killing for him. That’s why your hands are so covered with blood as they are.”

Ah. I’m very close.

Fear and astonishment flash across Ava’s face; she makes for the doorway, but I get there first, closing the door and leaning on it with one hand. She stops and glares at me icily.

“Let me out, Daniel.”

“No. Not until you give me some answers.” I smile.

She raises her eyebrows at me. “So I’m the hostage now?”

“No, Ava.” I lift my hand gently to her shoulder. “Avalon… you are not alright. Your soul is shattered, your hands are coated with blood. They’re slick with it, dripping with it, Ava!”

Her eyes widen, her breath catches in her throat, and she suddenly retreats from me.

“Just tell me what you’ve done, who you are.” I say gently. “You’ll find no condemnation from me.”

She shakes her head wildly, giving another harsh, bitter laugh. “Heh! You don’t want to know this, Daniel. You won’t be able to help but condemn me.”

“That’s not true. I can help you.”

Again, the bitter laugh. She looks at the floor. “No, you can’t. Please, Daniel. You don’t want to know.”

“I do. Tell me.” I press gently.

“No.”

But I can tell she’s weakening.

“Please.” I say gently, taking a step toward her. I softly grasp for her hand, but she twitches it out of my reach. Lifts her eyes to mine, a shame and grief so dark reflected in her gaze that I’m suddenly not sure if I really do want to know whatever she’s about to tell me.

And for a moment it seems she might deny me yet again.

But she speaks.

“I am the Lone Wolf, Daniel.”