The room was lit only by a dim illumination weave. Fingers of light fell upon the ashen face of the barely conscious man bound to the sel'dor table. Vadim's most trusted umagi stood beside the table, cutting away the remains of the bound man's once-elegant Celierian garb. He cleansed the man's body with herbal soap, then anointed it with fragrant oil.

Vadim's examined his vessel. There wasn't a single mark on the man's youthful, well-tended body. His torture—though agonizing enough to drive its victim quite mad—had been achieved completely through the use of Spirit weaves and Azrahn, destroying the mind, but leaving the body—and all its powers—completely intact.

"I expected such great things from you, Nour. Your bloodlines were impeccable, your gifts exceptional. But you didn't have the wit to use your talents to their best advantage. You've been a terrible disappointment to me." He leaned over the Primage's limp body and gripped his jaw with one bandaged hand. Bloody drool from his lipless mouth dropped onto Nour's cheek. "At last, I've found the perfect use for you."

Elvia ~ Navahele

Strangely compelling music woke Ellysetta from sleep, a melody she'd never heard before yet somehow recognized

She sat up and turned her head to gaze down upon Rain sleeping beside her. He lay tangled in the silken sheets, his limbs shining silver in the dimly lit confines of their bower. Love swelled in her heart, but she was aware of it in an oddly detached way, as if the emotion belonged to someone else.

The music in her mind grew louder, more insistent. She rose from the bed. The sheets slid from her body without a sound. She reached for an Elvish robe draped across the back of a chair and pulled it on as her feet moved soundlessly across the cool wooden floor.

The door to the small bower opened, and she passed through, stepping into the chill enchantment of the autumn night. The air was redolent with the aromas of night-blooming flowers, crisp fall dew, the earthy scents of the forest, and the unmistakable tang of magic.

Her bare feet skimmed down the steps that circled the Sentinel trunk. Around her the world was silent except for the sound of the song. The melody called to her, beckoned her, and she followed it with a strange, detached sense of purpose, a surety devoid of doubt or fear or even curiosity. Some part of her knew exactly where she was going and why.

The song led her through the heart of Navahele, past the moon-silvered stillness of its ponds, across the latticed bridges formed from blossoming vines and woven Sentinel roots. All around her the great trees of Navahele seemed to bend towards her as she passed. She made her way with swift but unhurried steps and passed through the opening in Grandfather Sentinel's smooth, arching golden trunk to the soaring hollow of Galad Hawksheart's throne room within.

The throne room was empty, the guards absent from their posts. The door at the back of the throne swung open as she approached, and she descended down the long, circling stair into the deep, glowing blue heart of Grandfather Sentinel.

Galad Hawksheart stood beside the mirror pool, waiting for her.

The notes of the melody that had drawn her here faded, still audible but muted, playing softly in the background, the only sound in the silence until she spoke.

"Is this a dream?" Her voice flowed out like ripples on a pond, each word echoing as if multiple Ellysettas had asked the question.

Lord Galad's green eyes glowed in the dim chamber, mesmerizing and full of secrets. "The lucid dream of a Seer, Ellysetta Erimea, but it is nothing to fear. You drank elethea and took your rest in the boughs of a Sentinel. Your Elvish blood awakens."

"I'm not afraid." And strangely, she wasn't. She was utterly at peace—even the Rage of her tairen lay still and silent. "Did you summon me?”

"I did not. If anything, you summoned me. You still have questions in need of answers?”

"Yes." She had not known the questions were there until he mentioned them, but once he did, they rose like bubbles of air floating to the surface of a pond. With them came the rebirth of emotion. "My Fey parents..." she began.

"—would not want you to sacrifice yourself to save them," Hawksheart interrupted. "You have considered using your connection to your father to find them." The Elf leaned forward, his green eyes burning into hers. "You must not do this. The High Mage will be waiting, and all will be lost."

"You're telling me there's nothing I can do to save them?"

"On the contrary, you are the only one who can. But what price will you pay to do so? How many people will you condemn to death to set them free? Because if you rush to their aid now, many will die. Many times many."

"So I must leave them there to suffer?" The very thought of standing by and doing nothing while her family suffered went against everything she believed. She'd never met Shan and Elfeya v'En Celay, but it didn't matter. She'd felt their torment. She'd shared her father's mind . .. part of his soul.

"Unless you would plunge the world into the abyss, bayas. Your fierce defense of those you love is one of your greatest strengths, child, but the High Mage will use those feelings against you. You must think with your head, not your heart. Just as I have done all these thousand years."

She'd felt Lord Galad's torment over that decision. He'd shared it with her on purpose, she now realized—not so she would feel sympathy for him, but so she would understand his choice and realize why she must make the same one. Just as Rain had done, even though she'd railed at him and pushed him into vowing he would rescue her parents once their location was known.