We departed for Silvring Hall the next morning.

Once we boarded our shuttle, Father laid a hand on my shoulder. "You look better today. A good night's rest can do wonders for a pensive mood."

I smiled. "Very true."

"Do you have any plans during interim?"

"There's a special event with the social club in a week. I'd also like to return to the office, and catch up on what I've missed."

Concern lined his face. "This is your break, your time to relax. Are you sure you want to work?"

"More than anything. It helps me to focus."

"I admire your commitment," he said. "But don't feel you must prove anything. You're young, and you should take time to enjoy it. When you get to be my age, you'll thank yourself for it."

If only he knew the extent I'd taken my youthful recreations to with Tamsin.

Father slept during much of the seven hour flight.

As soon as I was alone, I messaged my dearest.

"T: Are you home yet?"

"Simone: No. Two hours to go."

"Goodness. That's a long trip, isn't it?"

"It never used to be. But now, every mile is one further from you."

Her responding icon was sad.

I disconnected when we neared our destination. The terrain glowed a desolate white through the filtered glass of the shuttle's windows. Belenus soon splintered across the plain below. Transport lines and expressways extended from the jumble of domes and support shields above the Basin. Arcologies such as ours covered most of the Moon's habitable surface. Many preferred Luna to the orbital colonies, as it offered more variety and diversions. To me, it was simply home--the setting for my happiest memories.

We docked within our private hangar, and boarded a commuter shuttle. A compact rotorcraft designed for intra-habitat travel, its engine drowned out conversation or chances to nap. It was nevertheless a swift route, and we reached the estate within twenty minutes.

"Your mother and Castor will arrive later this evening," Father said, as we disembarked.

Mr. Pierce and the staff greeted us in their usual decorum, and many fond smiles fell upon me.

"Welcome home, sir," Mr. Pierce said. "We commend you on all your achievements."

I thanked him, and retired to my bedroom for a while. Not much had changed. My books and childhood playthings remained as I'd left them. Along one wall hung framed photographs of Duke and I, a few pelts, and the heads of my first kills. I didn't have time for a hunting excursion this interim, perhaps on the next. On a corner table, my collection of toy soldiers stood in fierce formations of tin, a battle I'd begun as a boy and never finished. I ran my fingers over my favorite figure, the Pruessian General on his prancing black war horse. His bayonet was still sharp, ready to slay his foes.

Coiled inside a pewter cup on my dresser was a neglected trinket. I blew dust from it, and admired it in the light of my bedside lamp. It was a tiny star pendant, cast in silver, suspended on a slender chain. In the center, a small piece of igneous stone glistened like a teardrop. It was a souvenir from Venus, a keepsake given to me by Grandfather years ago. A piece of the Evening Star. What a perfect gift for Tamsin. I tucked it into my bag so I wouldn't forget.

With plenty of clothing and necessities here, I didn't need to unpack much. My athame and Duke's skull were the most important things I'd brought. I stowed them under my bed in the latched box, to avoid any further mistakes by overzealous robots.

After dinner, I joined Father on the western veranda. He lounged in his favorite suspension chair, his bare feet propped upon a cushioned ottoman, and a glass of brandy in hand.

He pointed to the matching chair beside him. "Sit down, son. Take off your shoes."

I narrowed my stare. "My shoes?"

"And your socks, too. Your mother says it's good for the soul. I'm giving it a try, and I think I understand it now."

I did as he asked, and reclined upon the oversized pillows.

Father stretched, and rested his hands behind his head. "There we are. It's rather liberating, once you're used to it."

I was baffled, and extended my toes for emphasis. "This is Mother's idea?"

"It is." He closed his eyes.

"She certainly stays with us a lot, now."

"Her pet bird is a permanent resident in the main drawing room. I'm sure you heard it chattering when we arrived. She and Castor depart for Highveld when they're on the mission, and return right after. It's been challenging for us over the years--your mother and I. But we've reached an understanding of late."

"And going barefoot is part of it?"

He laughed. "She told me I'm too strait-laced. 'You don't even take off your shoes to relax,' she said. I realized it was true, and heeded her advice. It seems to be working. My mind is clear, and I know what I need to do, for the first time in years. The dinner last night with the candidates was just a start."

"How fascinating." After a few minutes of contemplation, I sat up. "Father, may I ask you something? I've always wondered about it."

"Absolutely."

"Do you love Mother?"

His brows lowered as he faced me. "It pains me you should even ask. But the answer is yes. I've loved her since the first time I asked her to dance. She loved another, as you know. But it didn't hinder my feelings for her. I thought I could change her mind in time. Part of me still clings to the foolish notion. I...damn. Forgive me for babbling on about such personal trifles. And forgive me for being such a failure as a parent." He finished his drink, then hung his head.

I knelt beside his chair. "You're not a failure, Father. I love you."

He grabbed me in a startling hug. "I love you, too. It's wonderful to have you home."

Warm tears stained my shoulder. The guilt of my secrets stung more than ever. I wanted to tell him everything, but I couldn't.

The chime of his wristcom brightened the moment, as did his grin when he checked the call. "They're here. Let's go to greet them, shall we?"

In his haste, he forgot his shoes.

"Wait," I said, retrieving my own.

"Leave them. This is our home, and our family, and we'll do as we please."

We soon stood barefoot upon the terrace, the servants and robots lined at attention behind us.

Mother and Castor climbed the steps with radiant smiles, though they looked weary.

My brother hugged me first, and noticed our unusual state of undress. "Where are your shoes?"

"We're enjoying a night of leisure," Father said, embracing Castor. "How was the mission project, son?"

"It was great. We assisted refugees in Tipal and West Oslandia. Even though we can't change what the Kaezer did, I like helping the Unfortunates."

Castor's enthusiasm was genuine. Perhaps his charitable interests weren't a play for attention, as I'd originally suspected.

"Is that what they're calling them?" I asked. "The Unfortunates?"

He nodded, and took off his cap. "It's a sad name, isn't it? But it suits their plight well."

Mother caressed my cheek. "Look at you both, becoming shoeless heathens already."

"All due to your wise suggestion," Father said. He kissed her with more passion than I'd ever seen them share.

She melted into the embrace.

"Welcome home, darling," he said.

As they walked to the door with their arms around each other, Castor poked me.

"They've been this way for weeks," he said. "I don't know what's changed between them, but things have been nice around here. I hope it lasts."

I looked into my brother's hopeful eyes, and for once shared his optimism. He'd grown much, sprouting into the ungainly promise of adolescence. His annoying mannerisms lessened as he matured.

The servants unloaded the limousine, and delivered late meals for Mother and Castor. We all retired early, exhausted as we were after our journeys.

At dawn, a cryptic vision haunted my mind. Red dust. Footprints meandered into carnage-choked waves. Bones wailed and clattered. Tamsin writhed naked beneath me, her hair tousled with sand and seawater. A child cried, and darkness smothered us in its depths.

I woke in a sweat, though I wasn't afraid. My dreams were consistent lately, bearing an elusive purpose. I rubbed my eyes, and padded to my bedroom window. The artificial sunrise rolled its way across the arcology dome, specialized lights far above providing a standard cycle during the two weeks of lunar night.

I rang for fresh coffee, an addiction I'd developed at Chamberlayne. Minutes later, a custodian unit brought it upon a serving tray, along with hot scones and butter.

The status light on my wristcom blinked, and I checked my inbox.

An affectionate message from Tamsin elevated my mood. "Wishing upon our star tonight, and hoping you're well. I miss you. T."

My reply was brief, but tender. I hesitated a moment to add a term of endearment, as subterfuge was paramount. Then again, I was pretending to be a girl, and they always shared such pleasantries among themselves. I signed it--"All of my heart, Simone." It conveyed my sentiments, and could pass as a devoted friend if Raleigh Lovejoy happened to snoop.

About an hour later, I dressed for breakfast, and hurried downstairs.

Mother sat close to Father in the dining hall, feeding him a slice of fruit. He gently nibbled her fingers as he took it. They straightened themselves to refinement when I entered.

"Good morning, Silas," Mother said, dark eyes aglow with mischief. "Did you have pleasant dreams?"

I sat across from her. "Pleasant and revealing, as always."

She gave a knowing smile. "I'd like a chat with you after we eat, if it's not too much trouble."

"We're leaving for the office soon. This afternoon, perhaps?"

Father cleared his throat. "We won't depart until nine standard. You have some time to visit."

"Very well," I said. "Where's Castor? He's usually first to the table."

"He wasn't feeling well this morning, so he took breakfast in bed," Mother said, sipping her hot tea.

I joined her in the conservatory soon after. A lovely space where stained glass arches diffused light into dappled smears, it housed a plethora of botanical delights. Water laughed in the fountain, leaves and vines twisting around chiseled motifs.

"Come to me, Juno." Mother whistled, and raised an arm. Her drop-waisted frock was a breezy complement to the bird's flutter.

With a mad blur of feathers, her bird perched upon my shoulder. "I see!" Then, it glided to its mistress.

"She knows," Mother said. "Most people underestimate Juno."

"What does she know?" I asked.

"Isn't it obvious? She knows you have the Sight."

I shrugged. "Animals are more sensitive to such things."

"Your dog is another. He called to me in a vision, even as he lay in his grave. You brought him along for the upcoming Rite, didn't you?"

"Of course."

We entered the verdant pavilion at the center, and sat upon the iron wicker chairs there.

"Mother, I must ask a question."

"Go ahead." She watched me expectantly, stroking Juno's feathers.

"When you say Duke called to you in vision, how do you know it was really his spirit? I don't understand this yet, though I've seen Duke and...others. Sometimes it all seems just a powerful dream."

"I asked Grandfather Kraelis this myself, when I was about your age. A true spirit always brings a message. A mere vision might not. You'll know it's from the spirits when the answer arrives three times."

I leaned across the arm of the chair. "My dreams are the same, now. Unfolding a little more each time, as if they're leading me somewhere. It's far surpassed three occurrences. Yet I still can't decipher them when I wake."

She smiled, and took my hand. "You're almost there. In the Rite, you'll claim your power, or die."

"What do you mean, claim it or die?"

"That's for you to discover. None face it the same way. I know you're strong enough. Lady Selketh has also allowed me to be your Guardian during the ceremony. I insisted there could be no other."

I glanced at her. "Just the two of us?"

"Yes. Much closer to the Old Ways. Our ancestors will sing to us for certain." She sighed. "There's one more thing, which I'd like to discuss with you. Have you seen a child at all in your visions?"

Startled, I sat upright. "No, but I heard a child weeping this morning." I avoided mentioning Tamsin.

She tapped her chin in thought. "I dreamed we stood at the edge of our cliff. You held the hand of a small child."

"If it bears a message, it's a strange one."

"I'm sure we'll discover it in time. More importantly, we must prepare for the Rite. I'd like to start this evening, if you're free."

"Certainly."

The sound of frantic footsteps drew our attention. Mother's meticulous lady's maid rushed in with skirts rustling. "Madame, please come. Castor has a high fever, and he's calling for you."

Mother's eyes widened. "Oh, the poor dear. Take me to him. I'll return soon, Silas."

Juno flapped to a nearby potted ficus, and studied me with her beady black eyes. "I see!" she squawked.

Her mimicry was often relevant, as I'd discovered over the years. Perhaps she was Mother's guide, as Duke was mine. I'd ask about it later. I was also curious about Lady Selketh, and Mother's insights.

Several minutes passed, and Mother didn't return.

I wandered to Castor's bedroom, and paused at the entrance.

Servants hovered about his bed, expressions grim.

"M-Mama...my whole body hurts." He tossed and groaned, blankets in a tangle.

"Hush, my darling. I'm here." She pressed a cool rag to his forehead.

Pity overwhelmed my usual annoyance. I'd never seen my brother so clammy and pale. I walked closer, and sat at the foot of his bed.

"Is he going to be alright?" I asked.

Mother projected assurance. "He's got a flu of some kind, surely. Don't worry yourself. He's suffered worse before."

"We must break the fever," said Mrs. Brooks, the head housekeeper.

"Have the robots draw an ice bath at once." Mother's voice was calm, though sweat glistened on her own brow.

Father strode in half-dressed, tie still loose about his neck. He hurried to Mother's side, and laid a palm across Castor's forehead.

"It's so hot." Castor moaned. "Can we open the windows, please?"

Father glared at the windows, already flung open, then at Mother. "I can call out from the office and stay with him, if you have need."

"I can take care of him," she said. "Children get fevers all the time."

Father spoke to me, though his gaze never left Castor. "Very well. Silas, it's almost time to leave." He stroked Castor's cheek, then followed me out of the room.

"I've never seen him so bad, despite what Mother says," I said.

"Neither have I. Keep your wristcom on. If you hear anything, call me immediately."

I agreed, then returned to my room to dress for work.

The valet assisted me with my cuff links, then slid my jacket over my shoulders.

"Have Mr. Pierce alert us to any changes in my brother's condition."

"Certainly, sir." The valet bowed his head.

Crawford waited out front, holding the sedan door open. We ducked inside, and rode in silence most of the way.

When we neared the expressway exit, Father sighed. "Your mother means well, but I hope she isn't taking this condition lightly. These things can escalate without warning."

Minutes later, we parked alongside the valet port of company headquarters. Miss Kohler's clerical unit hovered forth to greet us, a gleaming copper sphere with swiveling sensors aligned across its hull. Its optical orb blinked, an oddly human gesture for such a non-humanoid robot.

"Good morning, Mr. Blane." Miss Kohler's voice chirped remotely, the robot projecting a small hologram above one effector.

"Good morning, Miss Kohler," Father said cheerfully, though he remained distracted. "How are things progressing today?"

"Looking up, sir." She smiled. "Up two points in the market, that is. The news of fresh prospects in the Belt drove the investors wild."

"Excellent. Do have Mr. Forsyth send me a fresh report."

"Right away." Her image cast a warm glance in my direction. "And welcome back, Mr. Blane. The younger, that is."

I smirked. "You may refer to me as Silas via private channels, ma'am. It'll make things easier."

"I'll do that." Her laughter was a pleasant distraction. "It's good to see you again, sir."

We crossed the pavilion bearing the brass statue of the Blane symbol, and entered the main foyer. Employees and clients mingled about the expansive chamber in their costly pressed suits, the murmur of many voices buzzing about. We rode a plush elevator to the executive floor, then separated to our individual offices.

My own lay adjacent to Mr. Tremaine's, a modest space with a window bordered in long striped drapes, boasting room for a comfortable desk. I sprawled into the leather chair, and took a deep breath. After nearly three months away, I barely knew where to start.

Activating my system was as good as any. I placed my hand upon the identification panel, and it flashed green in recognition. "Load interface. Passcode: hunter1."

The integrated displays and feeds in my desk blazed to life. Its simulated female voice purred in greeting. "Welcome, Mr. Silas Blane. Would you like to scan for updates?"

"Yes, please. Retrieve all priority messages for the past twenty-four hours, and synchronize all channels as necessary."

"Process initiated. Estimated completion in ten standard minutes."

While I waited for my devices to align, I peeked into the office next door.

Mr. Tremaine sat at his desk, a display visor over his eyes. Data pulsed with a steady beep as he navigated with two fingers in air.

I cleared my throat. "Good morning, sir."

He pushed the visor back, then he broke into a grin. "Silas, my dear boy. Welcome home."

"Thank you, sir." I glanced about his office. "What news is there for our department?"

"We're swamped with the discovery of rich deposits found in a neutral sector of the Belt," he said. "It's all I can do to keep up with the inquiries."

I pushed my hands into my pockets. "Give me a task, if you will. I'd like to help."

"Are you sure? You're on break. You don't have to sully yourself, young man."

"You and Father are both surprised," I said with a chuckle. "I've looked forward to returning ever since class let out. This is what I do best."

Mr. Tremaine patted my shoulder. "Very well. I'll send a copy of the reports your way. It'd be an immense help if you compare them to the status logs and market hubs."

Satisfaction brimmed. "With all due haste, sir."

I soon browsed through myriad columns, information flowing across the display in my glasses. Losing myself in work was therapeutic.

Barely an hour later, my wristcom blurted an emergency chime. The status light blinked red. Heart pounding, I played Mother's message.

Her tone was frantic. "Richard, Silas., we're taking Castor to the doctor. He isn't well. I don't know what's wrong."

I grabbed my coat. "Mr. Tremaine, there's a family emergency. My brother's fallen ill. I must inform my father."

Mr. Tremaine blanched. "Hurry along. I hope all's well."

Father was already aware, and stormed out of his office to meet me. "I'm leaving at once. Are you coming with me?"

I donned my hat. "Of course."

Crawford brought the car around, and soon we sped breakneck to the hospital. He was a talented driver, able to dodge lanes and intersections deftly. When we arrived, he burst out and opened the door for us.

A nurse escorted us to the emergency room, down winding corridors pungent with the sterile reek of medical supplies and fear.

Castor and Mother occupied a room on the third level. She clutched his small hand, her face red from crying. Monitors beeped. Castor's skin was pasty, eyes shut. Tubes protruded from his nose, mouth, and various veins.

Father crouched beside the bed. "Do they know what's wrong?"

"The doctor diagnosed Crimson Fever," she said.

His eyes filled with tears. "It's the same which took my brother. How is this possible?"

"The virus recently swept through some of the refugee camps on the homeworld. If I'd known, I would have brought him here hours ago. It's all my fault for not being more cautious. He's sedated, as the pain was unbearable, and they've given him all the antibiotics possible. All we can do now is wait."

An hour later, there was no change in Castor's condition. I watched the shallow rise and fall of his breath. So this was how Uncle Linden died. I'd known it was sudden, and a rare illness. Yet I never expected it would strike again, and so close.

"Would you like to go home, Silas?" Father asked. "I can stay with them."

I shook my head. "I won't leave you."

He squeezed my arm. "You're a pillar of fortitude, son."

The night wore on, the dome lights flickering off in programmed sequences, and darkness shrouded us. A pair of custodians trudged in bearing trays of food and water, which we gladly shared.

Father soon dozed in his chair, his chin resting upon his chest.

"His heartbeat weakens." Mother's words were feeble. "We're losing him."

"Is there nothing we can do?"

She glanced about the room. "There's something we can try. You and I."

I approached, and sat at the edge of the bed. Castor's fingers were listless in my own. "Whatever it takes, I'll help you."

Sorrow drooped her shoulders. She crossed the room to retrieve her handbag, and removed a lighter, her athame, and a small corked vial. When she unstopped the container, the bitter stench of Asulma wafted.

"Knoseidtru? Will it save him?"

She lifted her profile. "Asulma is more than just an ally in vision. It also possesses healing properties. We can journey together, and rescue him within the Otherworld. Are you willing to aid me thus?"

I knelt onto the floor beside her. "Yes."

She purified the bone blade in flame, and pierced the tips of our fingers. Castor never stirred, even when she made a small cut at the center of his palm.

Father snored, unaware.

"Repeat these words--'Guardians, heal us, hear us'," Mother said. "Keep a steady tone, and hold onto my hand, no matter what happens."

She applied the elixir to all of us.

I sang the chant, my voice forming a rhythm with the Asulma. The room around us sank and faded. A dizzying thrill seized my gut, like the jolt of free fall. I clutched Mother's hand more tightly.

"This is the way." Her voice rang through the shadows. "Your inner eyes are open. Use them."

I flailed in the abyss. "I don't know how."

She sang with me, and a powerful current swept around my spirit form. A pin prick of light opened, ebbing with our incantation. Sharp pain tore through me, but I reached toward the expanding brightness.

"Join me. Don't be afraid."

It was as if a thousand suns rose. I stood beside her at the edge of a vast cliff. Birdsong trilled at my side. Mother appeared as a fantastic creature, unlike any I'd ever seen. A plumed headdress splayed about her mask of ashen bone, beads and tethers dangling about a face both bestial and human. Her features shifted like restless water, and her arms surrounded me as enormous wings.

"Let us fly and find our loved one, before it's too late."

I clung to her, bewildered. Black feathers and bone sliced through tendrils of wind as we soared. A vast landscape unfolded, the bend of a familiar river shimmering toward the horizon.

"I know this place," I said.

Her voice hissed through my skull. "Surely you do. These are the Plains of Penance. The portal to the lands of the dead is very near."

She landed, and I found myself upon a craggy outcrop, surveying the desolation before us.

A muffled bark caught my attention. Tail wagging and tongue licking, my dog's spirit welcomed me.

Joy glimmered around Mother's erratic avian form. "The truest of friends are the truest of guides. Tell him who we seek."

I knelt beside my loyal canine, and whispered into his ear. "We're looking for Castor, boy. Can you find him?"

Duke snuffled in reply, and his tail wagged harder. He stared with those empty eye sockets, though life surged through him. Pointing with one forelimb, he bolted over the hillside.

We followed his broad paw prints in the dust. Before long, we descended into a rocky chasm. Duke waited beside a clearing in the stones.

"There he is," said Mother, swooping forward.

Castor crouched at the entrance to a dark cave, shivering. He was frail, and far younger than in reality. Mother wrapped her long wings around him, but he couldn't see her. His eyes were sealed with thick tar.

He gasped. "Who's there?"

"What's wrong with his eyes?" I asked.

"He's hindered by mortality. Only seers possess the gift."

Castor whimpered. "Who are you?"

"It's your brother, Silas. And Mother. We'll take you home."

He hid his face in his hands. "I know you. You hate me. Leave me alone."

Mother's form wavered. "Don't give in, Castor. Fight the call of death. We love you. Silas, talk to him like you do in the waking world. Break him free."

Regret stabbed through my awareness. I tightened my grip on Castor's arm, and gathered all my courage. "Listen to me, pipsqueak. I don't hate you. We've ruffled each other's nerves a bit now and then. But that's what little brothers are for, right?"

He attempted a smile. "Yeah..."

"That's right. Come with us." My words fumbled. "We'll get you out of here."

Another voice swam at the vision's edge, a reminder of the physical realm pressing beside us. "What are you doing?" Father asked.

"Don't lose focus," Mother said. "Keep him close, and sing the words to return."

I chanted again, and Mother encompassed us in her wings.

Father's voice grew more distinct, and the terrain of the Otherworld fluctuated. It gathered to a point in the void, and disappeared.

My earthly sight settled upon the dim hospital room. I sat on the bed, my fingers clasped around Castor's.

Mother cradled us both. "My babies...praise the Guardians."

"Mama?" Castor's voice cracked. "I'm thirsty."

Father stumbled to the cabinet, where a pitcher of water waited, and filled a glass.

"We did it, Silas," Mother said, tears streaming. "You called his soul back, a talent only the greatest seers possess."

Father joined our embrace, though his confusion circled about us. "What was that? I've never seen anything like it."

Mother dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. "Silas and I follow the Old Ways of the Jaster family, dear."

Father helped Castor to drink, brushing a sweaty lock from my brother's eyes. "I don't understand it. But it's a damned miracle, if ever I saw one."

Bonding moments between my family were scarce, vivid images flaring across actuality. I held to them amid the turbulent times to come, as if I'd otherwise drown.