Nine times out of ten, when being given directions, Judson liked to be told of the opportunities and obstacles that came with them. Apart from being able to handle some situations in spite of any bane, he actually preferred to be ready first.

The only thing that made his infiltration of a military base a tad easier than expected was Ayariel.

As fate would have it, she proved a lot more resourceful than he gave her credit for. During their last stop in a certain town, she successfully obtained a seal of permission from a Lady of The High Houses who was in charge there. The woman, Adoette Dellburn, was a very distant relative, who married an estranged cousin of Ayariel's father. It took a lot of wheedling and cosseting, but in the end, Adoette caved. The town, called Rherimar, was only half a mile away from Oldland and sixty miles from Hillbay, Ayariel's home of nativity.

Initially reluctant to waste any more time by gallivanting, he came to appreciate the opportunity of Ayariel lugging him the whole way to visit The Household of Monarchs because the moment he stepped foot on the soil, he felt himself open up again.

The ruins were great and ancient – decrepit remnants of an old kingdom and a once powerful citadel, the first area of settlement in the entire realm. Its walls had been crafted from gigantic bricks that were moss-grown and timeworn, but still as impressive, perhaps, as it were the first time it was built. The padded earth was strewn with tall grasses. Huge gates stood at the forefront of the city, one side of it bending inwardly as if it had been struck with something greater.

What Judson found truly fascinating were the ruins. Two villages, Aldfield and Aldwinter, collared the entrance to the kingdom and every brick of it had collapsed to naught, making Oldland the first and largest collection of disrepairs he ever saw.

Yet, the place was so magnificent, he could hardly acknowledge those broken stones as the remains of a homeland. Everything – from every blade of grass to every bit of stone – was bleeding with eldern power. When he touched them, he felt transported through time, plummeting right into the stories that had raised the kingdom. Eduron, it was called in those days, and it once contained the largest ever number of knights in the history of the world. Yet nobody that was alive could remember the fact.

It was heartbreaking to Judson and stayed in his mind until they left the ruins.

Presently, he looked on at the military base in the distance and thought of many more heartbreaking things; the greatest being a fine stud made to lug overweight loads up a flight of stone steps. The horse could have thrived well in its own natural habitat and sired a mighty breed after itself. Yet it was being forced to play the role of a donkey. It pained Judson to see the creature whipped often for its sluggish movements. He wished more than anything to toss the animal's punisher, a brawny Outcast, over the edge.

Sigoric sat on an isolated mound of great jagged stone ornamented with radiant greenery and flowers, a natural spring, and a lagoon nestled in the forest on its left flank. Far behind the cliff stood a complicated puzzle of gray pinnacles tall enough to pass as mountains.

"That is going to be our escape route." Ayariel pointed out, unhanding the satchel around her midsection. Upon her own request, he allowed her carry it all the way. Their aim was to travel light and fast, so she had forsaken her baggage, hiding it within the safe ruins of Eduron.

"Where does it lead?" Judson asked, squatting beside her. Over time, they had both found a rhythm to work with. Whomever held the most knowledge on a current situation was given the reins. Consequently, he also found that he liked her company apart from the fact that she was attracted to him and showed it very often.

"I don't know for sure." She was squinting into the distance as if her eyes could zoom in on the passage. "It could lead anywhere, but as long as we'll be far from harm, then that's alright."

"We might as well be walking straight into harm."

A smile broke across her face. "You worry too much. Look! See those gables?"

He squinted as well. "I do."

"An archway passes right underneath it. That should lead to the rear end of the cliff and possibly to a path in the rocks. Should anything go wrong, we must converge in the archway."

He gave a nod of agreement. "And how are we to draw Gzrel's attention if he is in there as we assumed?"

She heaved a sigh that told him she was about to say something he would not like. Since their journey, she repeatedly assured him of a brilliant plan that she had cultivated; one that would snatch a thief's attention in a snap. But, she failed to specify what the plan really was. He blindly put his trust in her because, in their current phase of friendship, she had come to understand that he was not merely on a wild goose chase. His aim was a bit clearer to her than it had been before.

"You are not going to like this." She muttered, appearing timid, though he assured himself that her fear was not of him.

"I had a haunch that I would not," He reasoned in a cautious tone. "But go on."

She gazed at his hand for a fleeting second. "We need the wristband."

Instantly, his expression clouded over. He felt a sense of overprotection over Calaire and secured it with his other hand. "Why?"

"It's made of Heaven's Medal." Her voice was low, but it hummed with excitement, as though she had made the realization much earlier and was awaiting the right moment to reveal it. "Heaven's Medal is a rare and priceless metal, and I can swear the sight of a rare and priceless metal will allure any thief, visible or not."

"I cannot risk losing it." He objected, shielding his hand behind his back. He rose and began to walk away. The idea sounded absurd in his ears.

She furtively rose and followed. "I don't plan on letting that happen. Besides, it's not like you haven't lost it before."

His innards went rigid with upset. He spun unannounced, forcing her to a halt. "That was unintentional, and how dare you bring it up? Just because you found it again does not mean you have the right to use that piece of information against me."

She lifted both hands in placation. "I wasn't using it against you. I only meant that the last time you misplaced it, you hadn't been so bothered."

"I was bothered, greatly too. And the last incident happened without my knowledge. I was displaced. Now, I will not give it away knowingly."

"But we need to find Gzrel," She stressed. "Or are you willing to throw all our efforts in the gutter now? Just like that?"

He calmed enough to think about her question. In order for him to progress, he had to risk it. Calaire looked very dull around his wrist, and it took actually consenting to let go of it to realize how much it felt like a real thing to him. A living thing. He had subconsciously channeled every bit of his connection to Waverly into it.

"All we need is to just draw his attention to ourselves." Ayariel reminded. "You won't lose it a second time."

"Swear it." He kept a firm gaze to make her aware that he was far from joking.

Her pupils dilated, but her expression remained the same. "I swear."

With a lot of reluctance, he removed Calaire and held it up. "So, what now?"

"It needs to become something other than a wristband; something a builder would find both useful and appealing, like a hammer."

With a nod, he stared at the band, willing it to transform, and it immediately morphed into a hammer that would have looked normal if not for the luminescence encased in its sturdy handle. Calaire's signature blueish glow was trapped inside the hammer, giving it an ethereal appearance.

Ayariel smiled at the new tool and held out a hand. He surrendered it with a groan. "Now, we need to place it where he would have no trouble finding it. You remember what you have to do?"

He nodded, shutting his eyes briefly. "I do."

"Alright then," Ayariel gently banged the hammer against her open palm, her eyes traveling to the cliff in the distance. "This operation is officially in motion."

It did not prove so easy to skirt around the area without being seen. Judson came to realize that more Outcast sentries were placed along the many turrets at almost every corner of the building. Using his ability to camouflage, he walked a straight line – right under the noses of all the watchmen – and properly came into the compound. The moment he was surrounded by stone again, his camouflage surprisingly wore off, leaving him exposed. It felt the same as when a cold material that was meant to be sticky suddenly lost its adhesion and slipped away.

He bent low to navigate the strange area, wondering why his disguise had chosen the wrong time to prove ineffective. Concrete roads bled into themselves; some high and others low in respect to the natural design of the cliff. His heart thumped inside his chest as he advanced, staying plastered to the walls and well away from the edge in order to reach his supposed destination. Three days prior, he had flown over Sigoric about a dozen times, mapping the structure well enough to know his way around, but he quickly discovered that his view from the sky was a bit different from that on the ground.

The compound was a labyrinth.

Worry started to creep in on him, foiling the optimistic thoughts that had managed to stay in his mind throughout the night. Ever since his departure out of Oldland, something in him noticeably dampened. Hope was feeble in his mind, as weak as a dying flame and the slightest wind often threatened to blow it out. He felt just as weak each time his faith faltered, and it usually left him powerless.

Calculating the odds of making a successful dash across the open road did not amount to a very plausible result, but Judson felt he needed to risk it. He needed to find Ayariel before it was too late. After a bout of calming breaths, he watched himself attempt to camouflage again, but his hand only took on the grayish shade of the brick wall for a brief moment before fading away.

He spat a silent curse and peered about a few times. Clearly, he could only camouflage amongst plant life. Stones and brick walls did not count. With luck, his sweeping eyes found the burgundy leaves of an ash tree up ahead. Very quietly and with a lot of difficulty staying bent over, he made his way to the tree. Upon contact with it, his entire form turned a shade of burgundy before becoming translucent. He plucked off a few leaves and tucked them into his pocket to sustain the disguise. The little achievement of getting back on track filled him with a sense of continuity.

Afterwards, he returned to finding the preplanned spot where he would execute his own part of Ayariel's strategy. Said place was an area of low ground covered by fern from partly merging into a portion of the forest beside it. There, the Outcast outpost looked into the West, leaving the area unwatched. Ontop of a log stationed only a stone throwaway from the rushing river laid Calaire in hammer form. It had been struck into the wood so that it was alleviated enough to be seen from every and any angle.

Staying close to a sealed gate of heavy iron, Judson was careful not to make a sound as he kept an eye out for the target, or any intruder. For a frustrating length of time, nothing happened. The environment was serenaded by infrequent whistles of passing wind; bird's chirp, rushing water, one or more animal cries, and the sound of approaching footsteps.

At first, excitement riled Judson up so much that he almost forgot he was meant to be undercover. But he pulled himself together just in time to discover who the intruder was.

A Fire Mortal.

The sight of a Vestonian in an Outcast military base could pass as a tad normal had the former snuck in for gain, but he looked nothing like a skulker. In fact, he appeared as bold-faced as a high ranking officer. The overall presence of the soldier, who halted in a sedentary fashion, was unnerving and bizarrely misplaced. It seemed nothing like a coincidence, especially since the man's eyes began to scan the environment with an intention of spying anything strange.

For a time, the Vestonian remained, and it was beginning to seem like he would not give up his investigation and leave. Thankfully, he spun about. Yet, contrary to what Judson had expected, the Fire Mortal's hand suddenly set ablaze and he directed the flames into the forest. A pained female cry and a muffled thud told Judson the fiery wave just touched Ayariel.

"Intruder!" The man yelled at the top of his deep voice and from a distance, a resounding instrument went off.

As the soldier made to bolt into the forest, a strange thing leaped right at him from a clean horizontal angle; a thing that Judson imagined was very much like faint, moving sunlight projected against the outline of a cheetah.

The man fell on his back and came up standing in a hurry.

An audible gasp almost left Judson when he realized that the latent figure was, in fact, Ayariel. She had somehow concealed herself in a similar way that he could, but by means of sunlight. Though he had no prior knowledge of her ability to do such a thing, several telltale signs in the past suggested that she could disappear at will. It had always left him puzzled, but now it all made sense.

"I'll clobber the stuffings out of you!" The Vestonian shouted, filling his hands with ghostly fire.

A growl was the response before she lunged for him again.

Until the soldier missed his punches a few times, Judson did not know that Ayariel was completely invisible to her opponent's eyes. Himself, on the other hand, could see sunlight warp around her form with every movement. Unfortunately, she was no fighter, and the soldier mastered her tactics in a short time. He landed a punch in what would be her diaphragm and sent her sailing into a crashing tumble.

That bit forced Judson out of hiding.

However, he made no attempts to break his disguise nor announce his presence. Instead, he quietly grew a thornbush right under the soldier's feet. By then, reinforcements had arrived the scene.

"Bow? Is that you?" An Outcast asked, squinting into the bush that had grown much taller than the Fire Mortal's head and far too thick to see through.

"Intruder! Stop them!" Bow's shouts were a bit muffled, but not thoroughly unclear.

Carefully, Judson picked up Calaire from the log. But a floating hammer was good cause for alarm. The Outcasts all focused on it, eyes wide.

"By Koon! It's a levitating hammer." Someone exclaimed.

"Gypsie magic!" A soldier growled.

Before they could orchestrate an attack, Judson had willed the hammer into a wristband again, causing it to vanish from sight. Whilst the soldiers made several exclamations amongst themselves once more, he snuck around to reach Ayariel.

Regardless of the pain, her disguise had managed to hold. He found it awfully impressive. Such powers needed focus and pain was likely to break one's focus. He could hear her labored breathing and quiet moans of pain. Squatting next to her, he made soft shushing sounds as he gently scooped her into his arms. In that moment, her disguise burst like a shimmer of gold dust. The state of her suddenly made him regret his decision to undertake a reckless plan such as theirs. Blood was dripping down the corner of her mouth and she clutched at her scorched middle, where the fireball had touched, struggling to breathe; her face gleamed with sweat, and her hairband had fallen off, allowing for curls of moistened brown hair to litter her shoulders.

"There! It's a girl." Bow shouted from within his thornbush since he was the only one without his back to Ayariel.

The soldiers all turned.

"I told you it was Gypsie magic."

Just then, the Vestonian soldier set his thornbush ablaze and jumped out of the crumbling ashes, readying to throw another ball of fire at her, but Judson rose to his feet, willing himself to adapt to every kind of plant life beside him. The stunned soldiers stood at a standstill, ogling at the humanoid being as it constantly intermingled colors before their eyes.

"What on earth is that?" A soldier asked in awe just before he was blown back by a strong wind.

His comrades had little time to react before Judson sent another wind that sent them scattering in different directions, too.

When they were out of sight, he picked Ayariel up.

"I'm. . . sorry." She squeaked with a lot of effort.

Unable to think of something reasonable to say – more as a result of guilt – he simply hummed and carried her back to the road.

Unfortunately, Bow the Vestonian, proved very stubborn. He stormed out of the forest first. On sighting the egressing figures, which were strangely that of a wounded girl floating mid air as if she were carried snugly by the wind – that he knew was no wind – he made a quick chase after them. Without waiting to get close enough, he shot fire out of his two hands.

For a passing second, Judson felt a wave of growing heat from behind, but he only registered pain before he fully knew what had hit him. He tumbled forward a long distance, letting go of Ayariel in the process. Unnatural heat spread abroad deep inside his spine and paralyzed his back. When he tried to lift his wings, he could not feel them, and it sent alarms ringing wildly in his head.

"What a sight!" Bow chuckled, advancing. "A Shade! Oh, what clever tricks you have up your sleeves! I wonder what business has drawn you to such a dangerous environment."

"I could say the same about you," Judson groaned, pushing himself to sit up. "Though I doubt you feel out of place in such a wonderful environment."

Bow's ghostly smile framed his glare, testifying to the amount of anger he was suppressing. He glanced sideways. "How about I flay her first? That should scrape your wits off and knock reasoning back into you."

"No!"

The soldier sent a fireball rolling. Ayariel's attempt to crawl away was aborted when her skirt caught fire. She spun and hastily tried to put it out. The Vestonian aimed again, but his target was altered when Judson tackled him, redirecting the flame to a statue at the edge of a turret. The image keeled and fell to the ground with a loud shatter, drawing even more attention.

"Run!" Judson urged Ayariel as he grappled with the Vestonian. He saw her disappear again before the smell of scorching skin filled his nose. With a pained yelp, he released Bow, who had set the whole of his own body ablaze.

Bow's fists moved so fast he could not see them, but felt his jaw explode with pain as it cracked twice under the force of powerful punches. His eyes watered when another blow connected with his nose. Because he was too disoriented, Bow retained the upper hand and would have killed him there and then. Howbeit, Judson was able to recognize when his opponent suddenly made a pained noise.

When his vision cleared enough, he saw that a kind of prism protruded from Bow's gut, blood seeping down his trousers from the wound. The next minute, Ayariel was peeking from the side. She looked badly bruised and her breathless voice came soothing when she talked.

"We have to go!"

By a hair's breadth, they escaped the ambush of angry Outcasts, whom they had to wrestle with again and again, and made it past the gables. A little further down, they came into a narrow path. There, the ground was cemented beautifully and led into the crook of towering pinnacles on both sides. Up close, Judson realized how eerie they looked and his suspicions of them grew more when their pursuers suddenly halted at the start of the road.

"There's a great deal of misfortune down this path," Ayariel disclosed. "That is why they won't advance."

Judson's arm was slung around her shoulder for support though it was uncertain who really supported who because she felt as weary as he did.

"We won't need to." An Outcast sneered in a mocking tone. "How you die is your choice now – out here, or in there."

At that, jeers and sniggers rose from his fellows. Yet none made an attempt to retreat.

Seeing that he had nothing more to lose, Judson grabbed his opportunity. "We sought out Gzrel, The Grump. We were told he came to Sigoric."

"So, you dared to foolishly enter without an official pass." The first Outcast spoke. His voice was similar to Bow's. "Now, you are at the mercy of The Black Peaks."

"Then let the Peaks decide our fate," Ayariel piped. "But at least tell us where to find The Grump."

"Oh ho," The same Outcast chuckled. He seemed like a General because his armor was outstanding amongst others. "It's not the where that's the issue, but how. You don't find Gzrel. He's no missing item. He finds you and that is if he wants to, otherwise you both are chasing your own tails. Go in there, you're as good as dead. Come out here, and I'm gonna stick my sword in your throats. Either way works for me."

Again, the men cheered aloud.

Judson shared a worried glance with Ayariel and was surprised to see that she looked even braver than he did.

"We're going to make it." She assured in a quiet whisper.

"Great balls of fire, Commander!" Someone shouted from far behind. "Bow's dead! The intruders had him murdered."

As the crowd turned about in unison, Judson caught glimpse of two more Outcasts with Bow's dead body slagging between them. He grabbed Ayariel's arm in prompting and they rushed further into the path before the Outcasts could change their minds about a pursuit.

Truly, an aura of foreboding draped the atmosphere, and as they limped on, gazing warily at the looming pinnacles, they discovered that the road zigzagged in the most unexpected pattern. With luck, they encountered no foe; only a frightening silence that tricked the mind into believing it was being monitored.

At last, they came out of the road's end, and spread out before them was a silent jungle.

"Roads would seldom lead into scary forests." Ayariel stated tiredly.

Driven by crushing impulse and instinct, Judson suddenly picked her up and moved her away. When they both looked at where she had stood, they found a slithering reptile.

Ayariel's face became ashen as she realized that the creature had been coming straight for her foot.

"Thank you." She muttered.

When Judson looked at her, he recoiled at the fanciful expression in her stare. She was shockingly close such that he could feel her breath on his cheek. Immediately, he set her down in a safer corner and nodded in reception to her spoken gratitude.

"You think Gzrel came down this way?" She wondered, and he glimpsed hurt flash across her face for a brief moment.

"A part of me hopes he did not." He replied, assessing the jungle. Allowing his senses travel far, he saw to the very ends of the landscape. "The Black Peaks lie at the edge in the deepest parts of the jungle, farther West of here."

Ayariel's face contorted with pain and she clutched at her stomach, gritting her teeth with a deep grunt. By some miracle, Bow's fire had not done as much damage as it should have, but Judson remembered that she lived with an inadequacy. Before she could faceplant, he caught her.

"We need to find shelter quick." He muttered and lifted her into his arms. By then, she had already gone unconscious.

Ignoring his own pains, especially the heaviness in his wings which saddened him more than anything else, he traipsed into the jungle in search of a good spot for shelter.

By sundown, the skies began to turn several shades of lovely colors, bathing the jungle in ethereal lights, and as Judson stared in awe, he noticed that Ayariel was being spotlighted by them. At first, the phenomenon felt like passing beams, easy on the eyes and warm, but when they rested on her they split into the illusion of tiny bubbles. As this happened, Judson also felt the hum of nature under his feet, guiding him in the right path.

Soon, he found a spot drier than the rest of the dew covered vegetation. There, thickets and bushes, lichen and hunching trees had grown to intertwine and formed a strange sort of wide range canopy overtime. He set Ayariel down, making sure to secure the area around so that she was not attacked by crawlies, then proceeded to build a shelter. He walked far to gather wood, vines, the giant branches of palm, foliage, and dry leaves. Using the last bit of strength left in him, he grew a tree then hacked some of it away to provide more wood. As he worked, he stayed alert, occasionally strolling over to check on Ayariel. She slept inside a small bush of touch-me-nots, oblivious to all – even to the droplets of dew falling onto her face from the leaf of a leaning tree branch.

Out of experience, Judson was able to finish his building quicker than the average builder. The structure was meant to house Ayariel alone as he had no problems camping under the night sky. All around, the jungle was eerily silent, yet oftentimes he picked up on sounds in the far distance, like the guttural roar of a lion, a loud moan that could possibly have come out of an exhausted, gigantic animal. They each came unexpected and startled him, yet he did not feel afraid. He moved Ayariel into the shelter by lifting her with vines because the interior was too small for him to fit into, and began to make a fire. In his ears, the silence was piercing and a low ring often came out of nowhere and muffled sound inside of one.

As the flames crackled, he showered them with leaves and poked at it with a stick. Just then, instinct flared and made his skin rupture with the awareness that something was approaching, but he did not feel the need to look around. Instead, he remained rooted, until his name softly resounded from behind.

He shot up at once and turned.

The caller's voice was unmistakably Waverly's.

"Hlsana?" He whispered in a weak tone, searching the dark with his eyes. Whether it was an effect of strange workings in the atmosphere, or his own paranoid subconscious, he could not tell, but he could swear he heard her call out. He lifted the flaming stick and cautiously advanced, peering about for oddities. His heart pounded in his ears, and the inside of his hands grew sweaty.

Could it really have been her, or had he begun to imagine things a little too vividly?

Without a doubt, she was an everlasting presence in his mind; a living memory that pillared his motivation to live another day. Every step he took was a reminder that she was waiting. Where? He could not say yet. But his determination to find her was shooting up to an all-time high.

The possibility that she had rescued herself and was somehow calling for help from some faraway place started to gnaw at him. It was too good to be real though in the past, he could not count how many instances he heard Waverly in his mind, telling him things and warning him. The first time it happened, he thought it was a product of mere imagination, until it had repeated time and time again.

Now, he could not help thinking that the same occurrence was taking place.

Was she close enough that he could sense her in his thoughts?

One thing above all else filled him with overwhelming relief. She was alive. A fact he had been sure of since the start. Yet the confirmation was more pleasing. As long as she was alive, there was hope, and he thanked the stars for being given a chance to hear her once again.

"Soon, my love." He whispered and held Calaire. "I will find you soon."

Pangs of anguish suddenly took hold of him as he spun about and walked back to the shelter, head hung low.

At daybreak, the awestriking wonders of the forest disappeared and was replaced by a sweltering weather. Trekking long distances in the heat whilst being perched on by huge flies was not the ideal kind of adventure for any time of day, but Judson tried as much as possible to keep his optimism. He was on scout for edibles, and the jungle seemed to house only poisonous fruits. Hunting down game was not something he had tried before thus knew nothing about how to do it.

Suddenly, he thought of something else – fish.

Using a murky trail overrun with brush, mulch, and clippings of grass probably left there by herbivorous creatures, he came into a different part of the jungle.

The new landscape comprised greener and less wilder vegetation, indicating new growth. Compared to the previous region, they grew in noticeable gaps thus banishing any form of density. On and on he walked, until he passed through a curtain of lichen and came into the most surreal sight.

From where he stood, he could see a series of cascades – about four in total – rolling over the edge of pale blueish rocks. Everywhere else resembled a flourishing garden. Judson logged further in, admiring the surroundings with a limp jaw. He touched flowers, picked up bees and butterflies, felt the trunks of the trees, and finally made a beeline to drink out of the waterfall. Afterwards, he began to realize that he brought no means to transport provisions back to Ayariel. To be sincere, he had set out begrudgingly because of the heat, and his hopes to find anything good often flickered worse than a candle in the wind.

As he stood there, contemplating, a gentle sound made him perk up. He fell silent, straining to listen because the sound had come from a great distance.

Again, the sound came, like the chord of an instrument being gently struck. Something inside him began to itch to hear more, but he was too stunned to move.

Luckily, the sound grew less fainter, as though it were approaching bit by bit. His eyes peered long into the entrance to the ethereal garden because that seemed where the music floated from. Then, in the next second, all went quiet, and Judson nearly grumbled. He could not understand what made the music stop or why. It had been lifting his spirits and filling him with relief.

Crestfallen, he turned and was shocked to find a person nearest the very last waterfall. She stood with her back to him, swaying in a gentle dance. When she came around, three wonderful things struck him at once; the first being the sound of harmonious music – the same one he had been listening to only mere moments ago; the second was the source of the music – a portable harp, brownish gold and luminous. The third thing was the minstrel's eyes. They were luminous like her instrument, but in a shade of blue he thought he never saw before. When she looked at the harp, the softest reflection of her eyes danced across its bars, like ripples on water.

She was dressed in layers of soft white fabric that he thought resembled clouds, falling down to conceal her feet. No kind of jewelry decorated her arms or neck or ears, and her hair was hidden by a kind of headwear as white as her clothing.

For a goddess, she looked far too casual, but Judson was unsurprised.

After a few more minutes of wonderful tunes, the woman retracted her fingers, ceasing the music. Only the sound of falling water filled the atmosphere, but Judson's ears still rang with the song. It resounded aloud in his mind, sending his nerves into an uncontrollable vibration.

The minstrel heaved a sigh as if she too missed the music, then looked up at him. Before then, he almost believed she was oblivious to his presence.

"Harper." He found his voice by some miracle, and approaching her gently, took up her hand and kissed the back of it in acknowledgement.

"I did not think that you would know my name," She confessed amusedly, inspecting the back of her hand where his lips had touched. "Let alone reverence me this way."

"Only fools who have no regard for music would not know you."

"Truly." She agreed, then added with a saddened expression. "But, alas the world is filled with fools." Her face brightened again when their eyes met. "You are not counted in the number, thanks to Andaie."

"Indeed." He smiled. "Is this your sacred garden?"

Her stare became calculating and he sensed a hint of amusement in her bright eyes. "Nay, it isn't. I choose to believe you are aware that you attract good things."

"Almost as much as the bad ones." He mumbled with a chuckle.

"As do we all." She agreed again. "Even the gods can have ill luck."

He opened his mouth to ask a silly question then shut it out of respect. Harper suddenly smiled, making him suspect she had read the question in his mind.

"You have your father's quick wits." She giggled, though the laughter sounded a lot less flirtatious than most people often made it seem.

Judson's face instantly lost its color. His fingers went numb, and for a while, he could not bring himself to shake off the trance that had stunned him following the goddess's statement.

"My. . . my, my what?"

"Father." She repeated, watching his face. "You came from one, you know."

"I. . ." He swallowed with difficulty. The subject was foreign and made him feel uneasier than he did when he first met Juniper.

"Your mother has failed to mention that portion of the tale, I see. The truth should no longer be hidden from you. I wonder why she tiptoes around it, although I think she fears that you may hate her."

Judson shook his head more as an attempt to clear his ears than it. "What are you talking about? What truth do you speak of?"

A soft sigh escaped the goddess then she unexpectedly held out her instrument. "Here! Take it! Your mind has turned on itself too quickly, and it will not allow you process anything I say from here, but a song will help you relax."

"I do not play." He stared warily at the harp, as if it could bite.

Harper laughed. "My instrument doesn't require mastery of the fingers, but harmony in the soul. Think of it as a translator. It translates emotions into song."

Reluctantly, Judson accepted the harp. The object felt pleasantly light in his hands and smoother than marble. He caught a clear reflection of his eyes on its surface, and it worried him that he looked so troubled.

Adhering to the look of encouragement Harper gave, he struck a chord. Then another and another. The song that floated out of the little instrument sounded so intense that it caused the ground to shake, and the plants all quivered in fear.

Drawing close, Harper placed a hand on his shoulder. "Play on. Let the storm out."

And so he did.

The skies darkened so much overhead that the waters in the falls turned bleak and the greenery seemed to lose their color, withering into thin and lifeless things. An icy chill took the air, droplets of sleet rained down, and a single crack of lightning flashed in the sky. By then, Judson's eyes were closed. His fingers simply glided over the instrument, as if they had long known how to play; his betangled emotions unsnarling like coiled up chains being set loose.

Then, as he calmed, the tunes began to change.

"Reach deep. Find serenity." Harper coaxed quietly.

Little by little the tremors seized, colors brightened again, and sweet harmony tinted the air.

Then, the music stopped altogether.

Judson heaved a sigh as he handed the instrument back to Harper, who nodded in approval. She nudged him forward with a hand on his shoulder so that they walked side by side and came up to a line of cylindrical boulders underneath a sycamore.

"Sit," She offered, settling down first on the stone. "I will tell you everything."