“It really is quite remarkable,” Eleana said after Taer’inar had finished describing the events of their rescue of Ithan from the ruins of Zyr’kal. “You are very fortunate that the Dawn’s Mark manifested in him when it did.”

“What is that?” Taer’inar questioned.

“It is the gift given to the royal bloodline by Elteus the Disciplined,” Eleana replied. “The same gift that enabled the last king of Averion‍—and the prince‍—to seal Kiraan away. It is what gives the Aranis line their power, and it is through it that they may wield the light of Elteus himself.” She sat in silence for a few moments before speaking again. “Without Kiraan’s influence, his innate magical talent will begin to flourish. He may not be able to control all of it yet, but with guidance he can refine and master it.”

“Is it the Dawn’s Mark that caused him to lose his memory?” Taer’inar asked.

“In times of great peril, the Dawn’s Mark acts on its own, protecting its host. It could be that the means to protect Ithan from Kiraan lies in his memories. The death of his mother, his quest for vengeance, all that he has done in Kiraan’s name…”

“All sealed away with Kiraan himself,” Taer’inar finished.

“Indeed. Triggering any of these memories may lead to a chain reaction, and the seal will break. You and your friends must not allow him to remember who he was.”

“We can’t do that forever,” Taer’inar argued.

“I know. But, for the time being, all of you must guard Ithan’s past with your lives.” She took a sip from her tea. “When the last king of Averion came of age, he went on a pilgrimage to a temple high in the mountains. It was there where he fully awakened his power. If the young prince goes there‍—if he is able to use all of the magic bestowed upon him by the Mark‍—perhaps then he will be able to withstand Kiraan’s influence long enough to transfer him to a more permanent vessel.”

“I understand,” Taer’inar muttered. “Then we’ll make ready to travel there. Do you know of any safe passages to this temple?”

“Of course,” Eleana chuckled. She waved her hand over the floor, and once more a map of Averion appeared. She then traced with her finger a path from Myth Veri’Shantar to a tall mountain near the center of the range to the northwest. “This is the path that the Aranis line has taken for generations. At the tallest peak stands the temple of Meriterre.” She tapped the spot a few times with her finger before looking up at Taer’inar. “You might discover something for yourself up there.”

“What do you mean?” Eleana smiled wryly at him.

“I am sure you will understand very soon.”

“This path‍—is it safe from the witch?”

“She is more than a mere witch,” Eleana muttered. “She commands the gnolls and demons, and from what you have told me, I can guess that she was the one to send them after the young prince.”

“She was the one to set him on his path,” Taer’inar pondered aloud. “Do you think she’ll come after him again?”

“Certainly,” Eleana said. “She seems to have put much investment in Kiraan’s return. I am sure that she is not too happy about your interference.”

“We’ll have to be careful, then,” Taer’inar replied. “Thank you, as always.”

“It is my pleasure.” Eleana stood up and floated toward the entrance. “Now, that is all the time I have for you today. I do have other customers, you know.”

“Fine,” Taer’inar grumbled. He stepped out of her home and brushing past the various forest creatures that had lined up in front of it, apologizing in Elvish as he passed through. The city had livened up rather quickly once spring was in full swing, and luckily for the group, all of its inhabitants seemed to be rather friendly. They never did find out where the monster that attacked them in the crypt had come from, or why it had been after Kiraan’s vessel. Perhaps it had been sent by the witch, lying in wait until the crypt was opened.

“Hey, Taer!” Fenvyre called, breaking Taer’inar’s concentration. The dragonkin was running toward him, narrowly avoiding stepping on a passing squirrel. “Sorry!” she called to it as she continued running. “Is everything okay?” she asked when she reached him.

“Yeah, it’s just…” He scratched his head as they began walking toward the direction of the teleportation circle. “This is all so much more work than I thought it would be.”

“It’ll be okay,” Fenvyre replied. “It’s just… what do we tell everyone back home?” Taer’inar shared Fenvyre’s concern. So many of the dragonkin in Greenreach had cared for the one they knew as Mor’lavan, and now… No one could know the truth. Not yet.

Along the way to the circle, Taer’inar and Fenvyre happened upon Ithan and Dhurik sparring in a makeshift arena, with Irse observing close by. Ithan wielded a stick in one hand as if it were a longsword, rather than a glaive.

“Why don’t you go on ahead and check on Bimpnottin?” Taer’inar asked Fenvyre. “I need to discuss something with Irse.”

“Okay,” Fenvyre said. She continued toward the circle while Taer’inar turned and met up with Irse.

“What did Eleana have to say?” Irse muttered as the two of them watched Ithan and Dhurik spar.

“We can’t let Ithan remember anything or the seal could break,” Taer’inar explained. “At least until we find another way to keep Kiraan sealed away, no one can know what has happened here.”

“That makes things complicated,” Irse sighed, “but at least we know what we’re working with.”

“There’s a temple in the mountains, called Meriterre,” Taer’inar said. “I think it would be good for you to travel there with us.”

“Give me some time to think about it,” Irse said. Ithan stumbled back, falling onto the ground after deflecting one of Dhurik’s attacks.

“You’re doing good,” Dhurik said to Ithan. “Gotta keep your balance, though.”

“I must be having an off day,” Ithan replied as he flourished his makeshift sword. “This feels… unnatural.”

“I’ll debrief everyone else,” Taer’inar muttered to Irse before he strode over to Ithan and Dhurik, picking up another couple of sticks from the ground on the way. He nodded to the minotaur, who backed away from the arena. “You’re flailing your weapon around recklessly. You need to maintain control. Make it natural to your own movements.” He dashed toward Ithan, who leapt out of the way just in time to dodge his sudden attack.

“Hey, come on!” Ithan protested. “Give me a break, will you?!” He deflected Taer’inar’s next attack, but the force of the blow knocked the stick out of his hand. He rolled away, reaching out for the stick as Taer’inar pursued him.

“The enemy’s not going to give you any time to rest. You have to find a way to overcome them, even when you’re at a severe disadvantage.” Taer’inar swung his weapon down at Ithan again, but to his surprise, the young prince vanished in a flash of light. When it faded, an unseen force knocked him to the ground, and he was now staring up at the forest canopy. He had barely processed what had just happened before Ithan’s concerned face came into view. “When did you learn to do that?”

“Uh… Just now.” Taer’inar turned his head toward Dhurik, who shrugged slightly. Taer’inar picked himself up and brushed the dirt off of his armor.

“Well, fair’s fair,” Taer’inar muttered. “I guess we can stop for the day.” He gazed off toward the north through the trees. “I’ll go check on Bimpnottin.” He motioned for Dhurik to follow him, and they started making his way toward the old teleportation circle.

“Where do you think you are going?” Irse called. Taer’inar turned in surprise‍—he had just said where he was going, after all‍—but it was not he who Irse addressed. Ithan was following him like a lost pup.

“I was going to go with Taer‍—”

“No, you need to stay here,” Irse asserted. “I still need to work on your back wound.” Ithan grumbled, but to Taer’inar’s relief he turned back and shuffled to Irse.

After everything, he’s still just a kid.

❧

“And it’s finished!” Bimpnottin rejoiced, leaping up from his kneeled position. He had spent the better part of the last several days poring over the books in the library, trying to make sense of the runes that adorned the teleportation circle. He knew quite a bit of magic, but that which seemed to flow through Myth Veri’Shantar was far different from anything he had ever experienced. It was a struggle to find the right runes, but he managed all the same. He was the most powerful wizard in the world, after all. Yet, when he tried to activate the circle, nothing happened.

“It didn’t work,” Fenvyre said. She had arrived a few minutes ago and was now sitting on a large stone near the circle watching him work.

“Blasted bloodline magic,” he grumbled to himself. Stretching his arms to his sides, he spun around and sauntered toward one end to wait for his minions. After a few minutes, he caught Dhurik and Taer’inar approaching. “Comrades! It’s finished!”

“Fantastic!” Taer’inar called eagerly. When he and Dhurik reached the circle, though, Taer’inar’s smile faded. “It’s not activated.”

“Yes, well, you see…” Bimpnottin shuffled his feet. “As it turns out, only the royal elven bloodline can activate it.” He was embarrassed that he could not complete such a simple task, and he hung his head low in shame.

“Oh, well that shouldn’t be too much of an issue,” Taer’inar commented. “I suppose even the great Bimpnottin Bafflestone has his limits, eh?”

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“Why, the audacity!” Bimpnottin shouted. “I’ll have you know, if I had been given complete autonomy, I could have made three teleportation circles this size!”

“I’m sure,” Taer’inar laughed. “Well then, I’ll go and gather everyone up.”

“What are we telling the folks back in Greenreach?” Dhurik questioned.

“We can’t tell them what happened here,” Taer’inar replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. “If Ithan remembers who he was, Kiraan could be freed. For all intents and purposes, ‘Mor’lavan’ is dead. Do with that what you will.”

“But they deserve to know,” Fenvyre argued. “You know how much everyone cared about him.”

“We can’t risk more people knowing about this,” Taer’inar said. “It will only make it more difficult to protect Ithan.” Fenvyre frowned. “We won’t be staying there long anyhow. I’m taking Ithan to the northern mountains.”

“Hey, hey!” Dhurik shouted. “I didn’t sign up for any more mountain-climbing.”

“You don’t have to come with us,” Taer’inar retorted. “It’d be a shame if you lost your investment, though.”

“What‍— You‍— All right, fine,” the minotaur grumbled.

“The north?!” Bimpnottin exclaimed. “Whatever for? And after I put all this effort into repairing this blasted thing!” He stomped on one of the runes he had so carefully inlaid into the stone.

“Your efforts have not been wasted,” Taer’inar said. “We will return to Greenreach to gather more supplies first.” Bimpnottin threw his hands up in frustration, but he did not argue with the elf. After all, the magic of the Aranis line had caught his attention, and he wanted to be the one to carefully curate Ithan’s talents and watch them bloom.

“Fine, fine!” he shouted. “You’ll be needing my magic to blast those gnolls to bits, anyhow.”

“I’ll go, too,” Fenvyre added. “I want to keep helping in any way I can.”

“Are you sure?” Taer’inar asked.

“Yes,” the dragonkin replied. “I do miss everyone back home, but I don’t want to miss out on anything.” Bimpnottin admired the dragonkin, braving all of these dangers while only just discovering her own abilities. She reminded him of himself, in his younger years.

She will make a fine pupil as well.

❧

Ithan let out a loud sigh as he lay on his stomach waiting for Irse to finish applying her magic to his back. He had really wanted to talk to Eleana before the afternoon crowd of critters swarmed around her tree. He had a strange feeling that things were not quite the way they should be, and he hoped that the dryad would have some insight. From the time that he found himself atop that strange pyramid, he felt as though he were dreaming. Irse had assured him that these feelings would pass as the last of the demon venom’s effects dissipated, but he had his doubts.

“Irse,” he said as he lay there, “what’s an ‘O’kinou’?” The word lingered in his mind, like a stubborn crumb between his teeth.

“Where did you hear that word from?” Irse replied as she set a warm rag over Ithan’s wound.

“I don’t remember,” Ithan said. “Is it another word for ‘demon’?”

“No.” She muttered something, and Ithan felt a slight sting in his back. “It is a name given to those who have betrayed the gods.”

“Is the witch an O’kinou?” Ithan asked. For a few moments, only the wind in the trees filled the silence between them.

“Perhaps,” Irse said finally. She took off the rag and tapped Ithan on the shoulder, signaling that he was free to sit up. He did so and threw on his shirt‍—Fenvyre had taken great pains to mend it after they had returned‍—before hopping up to join the cleric as they walked toward the teleportation circle. By the time they reached it, all of the rest of their group had already gathered.

“Took you long enough,” Dhurik grunted. “Are we ready to go or what?”

“We’ve had a minor change in plans,” Taer’inar said. “We’ll only be staying in Greenreach a short while before returning here.”

“When did we decide this?” Ithan questioned.

“Just now,” Taer’inar replied. “Eleana told me about a temple there that will help you with your magic.” Ithan scowled, but he understood; he had managed to survive with the help of his friends, but awakening his own magic would help him stand on his own. Perhaps it would also help him to regain his memory. Taer’inar stepped down to him and set a hand on his shoulder.

“The rest of you have already decided, it seems,” Irse sighed. “Well, far be it from me to be the one to break up our little group.” She smiled, a rare sight for Ithan. “I shall join you.”

“Well, now that we’ve got all that sorted out,” Bimpnottin said, “I require your assistance in activating this circle, Ithan.”

“Me?” Ithan questioned. “But I don’t‍—”

“You’re more connected to this place than the rest of us,” Taer’inar said, releasing his grip on Ithan’s shoulder. “Have a little faith.” Ithan laughed as he recalled saying the very same thing to Taer’inar when they embarked on their quest to find Apostalite’s mage tower. When was that, exactly…? His memories were like a shattered mirror, and every time he tried to fit the pieces together it was like he had cut himself on the shards.

“Now, stand here,” Bimpnottin said, “and command the circle to activate.”

“It… can’t be that simple,” Ithan said.

“Oh, but it is!” Bimpnottin replied. “Exert your will over the circle, and it will obey!”

“Uh… activate?” Nothing happened. “Turn on. Start. Go.”

“The runes are like a lock,” Bimpnottin said, “and you are the key. Imagine yourself unlocking a door.”

“Where would this door lead?” Ithan asked.

“It can take you anywhere you want,” Bimpnottin said. “To the mountains, to the desert, to a far-off city…” Ithan was always intrigued by Fenvyre’s vivid descriptions of her dragonkin village. It sounded like it was very different from Myth Veri’Shantar. He wanted to see that place‍—the cobblestone streets and brick houses and the dragonkin with crimson scales.

“Open the way,” he said in Elvish. The runes then finally came to life, glowing bright in a variety of colors.

“You’ve done it!” Bimpnottin shouted as he stepped past Ithan and into the circle. “Excellent work, my pupil. And now, to Greenreach!” The gnome instantly vanished in a flash of light. Dhurik and Irse followed, each declaring their destination, and Ithan worried that he might not see them again.

“Come on,” Fenvyre said as she grabbed Ithan’s wrist. “Let’s go together.” The two of them and Taer’inar stepped up to the circle

“Greenreach,” Ithan said in unison with his friends, and the world melted away around him into the light.

❧

When the light faded and Taer’inar was able to open his eyes, he was standing amongst his friends in a cellar lined with shelves filled with barrels. The room was mostly dark save for the residual light from the teleportation circle at their feet. Bimpnottin was already at work inspecting the runes, but he cursed as the last of the light faded, the runes disappearing with them.

“Blasted invisible teleportation circle,” the gnome muttered.

“We know it is there, at least,” Irse said. She turned her attention toward the stairwell at the far end of the room; someone was coming down. Taer’inar held an arm out in front of Ithan, ready to defend him should that someone be an enemy. But when the crimson scales of a dragonkin came into view hauling a barrel beneath each arm, he sighed in relief.

They were home.

“Briryn!” Fenvyre shouted. She ran past the group and leapt at the dragonkin, who had dropped the barrels as soon as he saw the group huddled in the back of his cellar. She wrapped her arms tight around his waist.

“What in blazes‍— How did you‍—” He shook his head and sighed, reaching an arm around Fenvyre. “Well, welcome back, anyhow.”

“It’s good to be back,” Taer’inar replied.

“Did you know you had a teleportation circle in the basement?” Bimpnottin asked.

“I had no idea,” Briryn said. His searching gaze left a pit in Taer’inar’s stomach. “Where’s, uh… where’s Mor’lavan?”

“He…” Taer’inar wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to cry out and tell him that Ithan was the one he once knew as Mor’lavan. But he had to hold to his oath. No one could know. “…He’s gone.”

“Oh. I… I see.” Taer’inar’s heart shattered as the dragonkin’s voice wavered. “I… I really thought he was strong enough…” He shook his head again. “And, uh… the others?”

“Gone as well, I’m afraid,” Taer’inar replied, his own voice breaking from the guilt.

“They are not dead,” Irse added, surprising Taer’inar. “They have simply chosen not to return with us.”

“Ah… Well, I’m glad some of you made it back, at least.” The dragonkin’s eyes still had that glint of sadness, but it had lessened with Irse’s fib. He strode up to the group and turned his head down toward Ithan. “And who’s this?”

“Um, I’m Ithan. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Briryn reached out a hand and shook Ithan’s. “You look a little young to be wandering around in the wilds. Where’re you from?”

“Um…” Ithan craned his head toward Taer’inar. “I think… Myth Veri’Shantar?”

“You think?” Briryn said.

“He’s had some memory loss,” Taer’inar said. “That’s where we found him, though‍—an old elven city.”

“Well, welcome to Greenreach, Ithan,” Briryn said. “All right now, let’s get out of here and celebrate. Drinks are on me.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Dhurik said. “Haven’t had a good ale in days.”

The group followed Briryn out of the cellar, climbing the stairs into the kitchen and out into the dining area of the tavern. Taer’inar could not help but grin as the dragonkin all raised their mugs and cheered at their return. Some of them got up from their table and offered it to the group, joining other tables and continuing to cheer. Briryn brought out drinks for everyone‍—a strong beer for Dhurik, a double shot of whiskey for Bimpnottin, and wine for Taer’inar and Irse. For Fenvyre and Ithan, Briryn produced a drink made from lemon and honey.

Throughout the night, the dragonkin asked questions about the group’s adventures in the wilds of Averion. They asked questions about Ian and Unit 17 and even Apostalite, but by far the most questions came up about Mor’lavan. Taer’inar never realized just how much love Ithan had garnered from the people here, and every time someone asked about him, his heart sank just a bit more. When he had a moment to himself, he slunk into a corner of the tavern and found Fenvyre there.

“It’s not as easy as you thought, is it?” Fenvyre asked. “We’ll… we’ll be able to tell them eventually, right…?”

“I hope so,” Taer’inar replied, grasping at his chest. The pain had lessened with Irse’s intervention, but it was still there all the same. “Maybe we’ll find answers at Meriterre.”

❧

Ithan clapped along to the music as he watched the dragonkin dance about the tavern. He wore a wide grin, despite the growing headache. This place already felt more like home than Myth Veri’Shantar, but he did not understand why. He had no memories here, yet everything felt so… familiar. Perhaps he was trying to fit the fragments of someone else’s shattered mirror with his own.

Taer’inar kept telling Ithan not to worry, that his memories would come back to him eventually. Maybe even when they got to Meriterre. But he wondered if he could even wait that long. And what if they did not return? What would he do then? No, this was supposed to be a happy occasion‍—best not to dwell on such things. Taer’inar and Fenvyre were talking in the corner; Ithan decided to join them. He excused himself from the table‍—Irse nodded, but Dhurik and Bimpnottin were too far drunk to notice‍—and maneuvered his way through the dancing dragonkin until he had reached the two.

“…Maybe we’ll find answers at Meriterre,” Taer’inar said, gripping his chest. His face lightened up when Ithan approached him. “Everything all right there, Ithan?”

“I’m going to head out,” Fenvyre said. “I should have gone to see Sonys as soon as we got back, but I kind of got swept up in all the excitement. Bye for now.” She hugged Taer’inar, then Ithan, then began to wade through the sea of dragonkin toward the entrance of the tavern.

“When are we going to Meriterre?” Ithan asked as he turned back to Taer’inar.

“We’ll spend a few more days here, rest up, gather more supplies, and then be on our way.” Taer’inar rested a hand on Ithan’s shoulder. “If that’s okay with you, that is.”

“Yeah. I guess it is.” Ithan smiled at Taer’inar as the two of them stood together, laughing and clapping with the music once more. Meriterre could wait a bit longer. For now, he wanted nothing more than to enjoy this moment with his friends‍—both old and new. After all, the time he spent here would be etched on his heart forever.