Noran was in bad shape. His leg was mangled and the venom was acting quickly, causing thick black veins of putrefaction to course up his limb. Roshan, having cut away the lower leg of Noran’s pants, inspected the gaping gashes and then shook his head.

“I am unsure if I can aid him,” he said, looking up into Therin’s face.

The bigger man was watching, his face blank.

“I can heal some minor damage,” Therin said. “Are you able to?”

“Yes, but this…” he indicated the wounds which were so heinous they churned Therin’s stomach. “This is a wound inflicted by a corrupted, Unmade beast. It resists the Light.”

“The door–” Noran groaned, the pain of the venom written on his face. “We can’t open it without the hellhound’s power.” He clutched his chest again.

Roshan was kneeling beside the dying man, his face stern and appraising, his dark eyes darting over his injuries. Therin wondered how much healing the Blademaster was capable of and if they could save Noran. Did he want to save him?

“Therin,” the thin man said and the broad man met his eyes, his jaw clenched. “I have to tell you something. About her.”

“Not now,” Therin said, angry that even in this moment, they had to circle back to Mara. “Let’s get you stabilised first.”

“There’s no time,” Noran said and even as he said it, Therin saw his lips were white, his eyes feverish.

“Let the dying man have his last wish. Don’t be heartless.” Roshan’s admonishment irked Therin but he took a deep breath and crossed his arms, nodding once.

“Fine,” he said and let his gaze slide to Noran’s face.

“That summer…” Noran began and Therin felt a panicked aversion in himself that made him want to stop his words. He restrained the feeling and let the words continue. “She had enchanted you to make you love her. I saw her dagger, connected the dots. But I wasn’t able to tell anyone the truth. I think she had some kind of spell on me, too. I told Devan those lies in hopes he would make her leave.” He closed his eyes and gasped for breath as the blackness inched up his leg further.

“It doesn’t matter–” Therin began, annoyed that he wanted to make excuses, even on his deathbed.

“I’m not done,” Noran said. “When you left, she tried to do the same to me.” He swallowed, and Therin had the feeling of something big coming, a truth he didn’t want to admit. “But it didn’t work on me because…” Noran’s eyes slid to Roshan who was holding still, his own eyes wide and unreadable. “I’m not like…that.”

Therin let the words settle as Noran caught his breath. He was mad, dying and delusional. He wasn’t making sense.

“I’ve known that I’m different since I was little. I knew I’d never have a wife, never father sons. I knew…and Devan knew.” Noran’s eyes were watering now, tears thick and viscous as his body fought the venom.

“When I fell ill, she realised that I was immune to the enchantment, that she could not turn my body against me as she had done to you. So instead…” He lifted his hand, shaking badly, and looked at his palm. He turned his hand outward and displayed his brand, the scars now white against his bloodless palm.

“She began to turn me into a witch. Slowly. It took months but I was unwell and unable to fight her off. She took my blood, time and time again. Until the last step was to get me my own blade and bind me to it. With children, it’s easy. When their hearts are malleable and unstained, or when you want to join the Morinn. But I was almost grown and…”

“Noran–” Therin began, uncomfortable. But the dying man silenced him with a look and continued, his words tumbling from him in his need to make sure Therin understood.

“Everything I did from then on was to protect you. She wanted you to sire a child for her, a girl to fulfil a prophecy. You see, her own mistress, Erin, had told her…about a book. And about the need for a human daughter to be born of a family strong with Light. And she talked about the Son of Nature, who was a powerful spirit. Aethra’s son!” He was almost raving, the words quick and clipped.

“Erin wasn’t sure that Alira was the Daughter, and she had had doubts, she didn’t know if the prophecy meant that the Daughter just had to be able to wield the Light or if she should be a Morinn, a witch. And she couldn’t be sure until her and the Son met but if they had a back up, a spare, a child they could exact the Black Promise from immediately…” Noran dropped his scarred hand, spasming, and Roshan clutched it.

“And because I was sick, I wasn’t going to be able to do it against my will, either. It had to be you, she reasoned. And she was relentless. I knew you’d be disgusted by her if she was too insistent. The distance between you lessened the spell she had cast. But I knew…” His words were less and less coherent.

“So I told her that you would give in if she kept pressing you. I stole the letters she sent and never let you get them. I did everything I could. I said if she kept trying to break you, you’d fall…I knew it would just push you further away, that you’d stay away from her. I swear I never knew she would do that, that she would make you whip–” A gasp broke his words and his back arched.

“Enough,” Therin said. But Noran’s breathing evened out and he opened his eyes again, shaking his head.

“No, there’s more. Please.”

Therin merely stared at his brother and waited.

“I have been following Alira for a long time, trying to keep her movements hidden from Mara but…Shadesorrow returned, exactly as Mara and Erin wanted and I thought everything was lost. And she broke me…And I have done such terrible things to keep Mara from getting to you or Alira…To keep her distracted and from guessing. I returned to the Temple and told her…everything.”

“Why?” Therin gasped. “Why wouldn’t you just run? Just get…away?”

“Shadesorrow…sees…all.” Noran said and his eyes were going glassy now, the life behind them fading. “She knew…my heart and my soul. She knew…my deception and my desire.” He turned his eyes toward Therin and the life behind them flitted briefly, and Therin understood. But he was still a coward and rejected the truth.

“You were afraid that if you didn’t tell Mara, Shadesorrow would send her after me to get the information from you?”

“Yes,” Noran said and Therin felt the weight of the one word.

“Why?” Therin whispered, his deep voice breaking. “Why go through all of that?”

“Because…” Noran said and he closed his eyes, his breath ragged and harsh against his throat, a wet rattle as he spoke. “I love you.”

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His chest did not rise again.

“I cannot aid him,” Roshan said. “This is dire.”

Noran had sacrificed everything to protect Therin. He had given his life, his soul, his entire being to keep Therin from Mara and all Therin had done was hate the man. All he had done was spit on his name every chance he got.

He recalled the way the prismatic Light had flooded him when he had admitted to not wanting to see his brother die. He remembered the feeling of the mace coming alive, the embodiment of the Light, extending his power tenfold simply because of the choice he made.

The right choice.

He was a good man. He could make good choices.

“Then we try together,” Therin said, coming to a decision. To do nothing would ensure Noran died and died for a man unworthy of the sacrifice. Trying at least gave him a chance and would make all that Noran went through worth…something. He rounded the skeletal body and knelt at his other side.

“Together,” he repeated.

They wasted no time. Roshan laid one hand on Noran’s leg above the wounds, his other below. Therin put his hands on his chest. He looked into Roshan’s black eyes and nodded once.

Therin closed his eyes and began to pray, letting the words rush together in a whispered flow, unending. At first, the Light was hesitant, perhaps sensing Therin’s renewal of the hardened anger against his brother. He kept whispering and let the words sink into him, let his heart and his mind connect to their meaning. When he had allowed his bitterness to wash away in the torrent of words, Therin felt the key inside him unlock again, the Light pouring from him and into the still body beneath his hands.

He had often used his rage to connect to a righteous fury that was ignited with Light, cleansing and burning, but this felt so much more comfortable. It was as though this was how the Light was intended to be accessed: through peace.

Roshan’s access to the Light required no mantra, no recitation of words of prayer. He immediately began to crackle, the Light sparking down his body into Noran. The fire and lightning chased around his ruined flesh, appearing to assess the damage. Sweat broke out along both men’s faces, arms, backs.

They could not give up. Noran must know that Therin forgave him. Noran must not die thinking Therin hated him. Noran must not die thinking he had given his life in vain. Noran must not die…

Therin felt his body slowly go numb, a beautiful replication of the numbness of his rage, but somehow peaceful. The fire that seeped from him changed, becoming prismatic.

It was several long, tense seconds of infusing the witch with Light before the black veins started to retreat. Several more seconds before the wounds began to close, stitching closed with little zings of electric Light coursing through them. Beneath his hands, though, Noran’s chest did not rise.

Feeling his brother’s life slip away, realising he had wasted so many years hating this man instead of trying to forgive him, he bowed his head over his brother’s face and let the grief occlude his wrath completely. Two tears slid from his closed eyes and landed on Noran’s bruised, damaged face. He should have done better by this man.

A gasp broke the tension and Therin nearly cried out with relief. His hands rose as Noran drew a breath. He opened his eyes and looked at his brother.

“Don’t break the connection,” Roshan said through gritted teeth. “The venom is still in his body!” Panicking, Therin clenched his eyes shut again and redoubled his effort. But the strain was taking its toll and he was shaking badly. He began to say his prayers again but they felt drained of efficacy. Roshan joined him in the prayers, adding his voice. Together, their voices gaining in volume, the Light crescendoed.

Suddenly, Therin felt that he had reached the end of the Light, like the last dregs of wine in a cup, and with a panicked desperation he opened his eyes. He felt his hands shaking and his heart beating painfully. He was on the verge of collapse. He looked at Roshan, who met his eye and nodded. He let go of Noran’s body and watched Roshan take over.

The darker man was incandescent, the Light never having been so bright in all Therin’s life. He watched the Light arc and spark across the dying man’s face and flesh, the fire of his own Light still dancing across Noran faintly. Roshan began to chant in Dinari, words that Therin knew but did not understand. They spoke of Oneness and Love and Sacrifice. The chant crescendoed, peaking at a frantic pace and with a scream that rent his throat, Roshan pulsed a shock of Light into Noran. Therin was thrown backwards, the Light strike so loud his ears were ringing.

When he sat up, Noran’s eyes were open. His wounds were all healed, the leg perfectly fine. Blood was trickling from Roshan’s nose and he was shaking as he wiped the red stream from his face with the back of a hand.

“What was that?” Therin gasped as the ringing subsided. Roshan ignored him and bent over Noran, his hand on the thin man’s shoulder.

“Noran?” He said softly and Noran stared through him, unseeing. A frown creased Roshan’s brow and he shook Noran gently. “Noran?”

The man blinked, his pale grey eyes focusing on the Blademaster.

“Yes,” he whispered but he made no move to get up or speak again.

“Are you alright?”

“You should have let me die,” he whispered and Roshan’s frown deepened.

“Why?” Therin demanded and he crawled to his brother’s side, taking his hand in his and looking down at his blank face.

“My life was sustaining her shade.” His tone was muted, blank and completely even.

“Mara?” Therin asked, confused. Why had Mara been using Noran as a conduit?

“No. Erin.”

The name rang in the dank cellar and made Therin’s flesh crawl. The witch who brought down one of Devan’s most devout Paladins. The witch who turned a young Mara into a murderous monster…The witch who had given birth to Alira, filling her head with lies and secrets.

“What about Erin?”

“Her shade was in my Knife’s pommel.” Noran’s eyes were unfocused again, staring straight up, unnerving Therin even more.

Roshan shook his head, though.

“Who is Erin?”

“Alira’s mother. The witch who first started to piece together Shadesorrow’s Word and bring about the prophecy. She controls the Son. She split her soul into three stones. Mara retrieved the largest and when she made me a witch, she used Erin’s spirit to grant me my powers instead of a wild spirit. It only worked because I am male.” Noran rattled off the details with no emotion, his mouth working slowly and evenly, still laying on his back.

“Wait.” Roshan rocked back onto his heels and lifted his hands from Noran. “Wait, you mean…” He looked at his hands, as though he expected to see blood on them. “We…I just gave Erin that power?”

“And now she can see what I see.” Noran said but he did not close his eyes. Therin clapped a hand over Noran’s face, his large hand obscuring most of it, and stared, wild-eyed at Roshan.

“Now what?” Therin whispered.

“Bind something across his eyes and let’s get out of here.”

“Destroy the portals,” Noran said, interrupting them. “The door leads to the portal room. You must destroy them.”

“How do we get the door open? You said you needed the hellhound’s power.” Therin demanded, his hand still across his brother’s eyes.

“I did not know Roshan was Ka’Ti. He can do it.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“He is Ka’ Ti. His Light can Unmake.”

“What?” Therin said, confused. “I don’t–”

“How do I open the door?” Roshan asked, cutting him off. “I’ll do it.”

“Blood.” Noran said simply and Roshan didn’t wait for another word. He got to his feet and deftly retrieved the fallen dagger. He sliced his finger, letting the blood run.

“What now?”

“Touch the blood to the lock. But…” Noran hesitated. “I will have to enter to disable the wards. The room is sensitive to Light, even your wild Light. Bind my eyes, Therin.”

He did as he was asked, and took the scraps of the bottom of Noran’s pant leg and helped him bind his eyes, carefully pulling him to sit up.

“Thank you,” Noran whispered, his voice finally showing emotion. “You’ll have to be my eyes, one of you.”

“I’ll do it,” Therin said, making the choice for them. He took Noran’s hand, squeezing it once to reassure him and led him to the doorway. “Tell me what you need to see and I will guide you.”