Rain kept his gaze pinned on Hawksheart's face, but he sent a tender weave of Spirit to Ellysetta, warm with love and concern. «Are you ail right, shei'tani?» His hand lifted in silent invitation. She put her fingers in his and he pulled her to the protective safety of his side.

«I am fine.» she assured him.

He did not relax until he verified that for himself. His senses stroked hers like a dozen small caresses, probing for signs of distress. When he found none, the tension bristling through him eased a notch. "And did you find what you were looking for, Lord Galad?"

"Many things became clearer," the Elf king hedged. "Which verses of her Song will come to pass, I cannot say."

Rain had no patience for Elvish evasions. "What did you see, shei'tani?"

“I..." Ellysetta frowned- "I don't remember. A moment ago, I thought I did, but now ..."

Rain's temper soared. He turned narrowed eyes on the Elf king. "You stole her memories of what she Saw?"

"If I cannot tell you the future for fear of changing it, I certainly couldn't let her See it and remember."

«I hate the scorching Elves,» Gil muttered darkly on the Warriors' Path. «They may See a million futures, but they're flaming useless in the present. They never give a straight answer when a misdirection or evasion will do.»

Rain shared Gil's sentiments wholeheartedly. The Fey could dance the blade's edge of truth with the best of them, but that didn't mean they liked having the same done to them. Especially not by some two-legged, pointy-eared tree rat.

When buying apples from an Elf, look carefully for the worms. The caution his father had whispered to him more than once now made perfect sense. His mother had always had a soft spot for her Elvish friends, but his father had never viewed them so kindly. Never trust an Elf, unless you have no choice. And even then don't trust him much.

Hawksheart spread his hands. "If I could help you more, Tairen Soul, I would, but my hands are tied by the dictates of the Dance. What I Saw in your truemate's Song confirmed that my interference would upset the balance of what must be."

"How about I upset the balance of your scorching head by striking it from your neck," Gil snarled. His hand fell to the hilt of his meicha scimitar.

"But the Elves have helped the Fey before," Rain reminded Hawksheart. "You fought as our allies in the Mage Wars."

"And in the Demon Wars before that," Gaelen added.

"And, the Dance willing, we will fight beside you again before our time in this world is done," the Elf king assured them. "But for now, my friends, as daunting as it may be, you must face the Eld without the magic of Elvia to guide or aid you. No matter what the cost, no matter how I'd hoped it would be different, that is how this verse in Ellysetta's Song must play out."

Rain wanted to argue, but he knew it would be pointless. An Elf, once decided upon a course, was impossible to budge—especially when it came to the Dance. Hawksheart and every Elf in his kingdom would rush headlong to their deaths if that was what they believed the Dance demanded.

In that respect, though Rain hated to admit it, Elves were rather like the Fey. The only difference was, the Fey devoted their intensity to the protection of their women, not the dictates of some gods-forsaken prophecy.

"So you will not help us," Rain bit out. "I do not like it, but I do accept it. My shei'tani fulfilled her end of your bargain. Now you fulfill yours. Give her the truth of her past, as you vowed to do. And this time, Elf, we will all stand witness so you cannot erase her memories.

Hawksheart closed his eyes briefly, then nodded as if bowing to a fate he would rather avoid. "Bayas. The time has indeed come. Please approach the mirror. All of you," he added with a sigh. "Though I had hoped otherwise, you all must witness what the mirror has to show."

Together, the Fey approached the glowing blue pool.

Ellysetta started to kneel beside the mirror pool, but Hawksheart stopped her. "Anio, Ellysetta Erimea. This time do not touch the water at all. There is no need, and it could be... problematic." The Elf king didn't elucidate. Instead, he closed his eyes, lifted his hands palms up, and began to chant in the fluid, musical tones of the Elven tongue. Once again, the air filled with the intoxicating aroma of the Sentinel's liferings.

This time, however, the surface of the mirror pool did not remain flat. Instead, a mist of shining droplets rose up from the pool to form a shimmering veil that rose and expanded until it touched the ceiling above and stretched from one curved inner wall of the room to the other so that a great screen of water bisected the chamber.

In a voice resonating with power, Hawksheart said, "Behold the circumstances of your birth, Ellysetta Erimea."

The surface of the veil darkened and swirled with color as the mirror had done earlier, but this time the brilliant white light of Ellysetta's power did not turn the room bright as day. The Sentinel's inner chamber remained lit only by the glow of the pool. The images swirling in the veil came into focus, as crisp and clear as if Ellysetta were looking through glass into a scene unfolding in the room next door.

Flickering sconces cast a pale orange-yellow glow around a windowless chamber burrowed out of black stone. A large desk piled high with books, scrolls, and parchments dominated the chamber. Seated behind it was a man, white-haired yet somehow ageless, clad in purple velvet robes that looked almost black in the firelight. His head was bent, and he was scratching a quill across the pages of what looked like a record book of some kind. The man looked up, and Ellysetta's heart froze as familiar, icy silver eyes met hers and seared into her soul.