"War is a perilous venture. Take it. One day, you may find use for it."

The Elf king turned to Ellysetta and held out a woven circlet of slender branches covered with tiny golden flowers that looked like sunbursts against a backdrop of broad, glossy green leaves. "Sentinel blooms," he said. "A gift from Grandfather. Place them beneath your head when you sleep, to keep evil from invading your dreams. Once you leave Elvia's borders, do not sleep without them. And do not leave your mate's side. His presence offers more protection even than the Sentinel blooms ... and yours offers him the same. You shield each other, and you hold each other to the Light. Only together can you walk the Path the gods have set before you."

She reached out to take his hand, and for the first time saw Hawksheart startled. He had isolated himself so completely over the centuries that even the simple touch of a hand was a shock. "Beylah vo, Lord Galad. I am grateful for your aid and guidance. I still do not know why the gods chose me for this task, but I pray I can fulfill it."

"Whom else would they send to defeat the Darkness, if not their brightest Light?" The Elf king lifted his free hand and, after a brief hesitation, laid his palm atop their clasped hands. His eyes softened and he regarded her with something near affection. "Do not be afraid, Ellysetta Erimea. The gods did not set you on this path alone." His gaze traveled around the ring of warriors surrounding her. "Rain, your lu'tan, your birth parents, even your Celierian father and mother, all came into your life for a reason. Each was chosen to guide and guard you, to teach you what they could and keep you safe from Shadow's harm. Remember that, Ellysetta. Trust in those you love, and let them teach you to trust in yourself."

He looked deeply into her eyes, and his voice tolled in her mind. Find your strength, cousin. You have much more than you know. And heed your dreams. Elf blood runs in your veins. What your soul Sees when your mind sleeps does not all come from the Mage.

He stepped back and offered a final nod. "Fare thee well, my friends. May the gods shine their Light upon your Path and keep you safe from harm."

Fanor led the Fey away from the soaring golden tower of Grandfather Sentinel and towards a small green meadow where a dozen saddled Aquilines stood waiting, their snowy wings tucked against their sides and their reins held by a trio of beautiful Elves.

Gil stopped in his tracks. "We're riding those?"

"They have agreed to allow it," Fanor said, "and they can carry you out of Elvia and across the mountains much faster than any other Elvish steed."

The winged steeds nickered and snorted as the Fey grew near. Like most horses, they smelled the scent of predator on the Fey, and they were not as placidly unconcerned as the great ba'houda behemoths that had carried the Fey to Navahele.

"Esa," Fanor soothed in a crooning voice. "Eso, my friends." He gestured to the Fey. "Come. Approach slowly and offer them your hands. They will settle once they become accustomed to your scent."

Following Fanor's directions, the Fey mounted the Aquilines. As the snowy chargers leapt into the sky, their flight swift and graceful, Ellysetta glanced over her shoulder towards Grandfather Sentinel.

The lone figure of Galad Hawksheart stood at the base of the giant tree. His voice sounded in her head, deep and rich and melodic, with all the power of a great river carving a path through solid stone. Remember, cousin, trust in yourself. And when it seems all Paths lead to Shadow, let love, not fear, be your guide.

The Aquilines flew from Navahele to southern Celieria faster than ba'houda or even Fey could have run, carrying their riders across the vast forests of Elvia, over the soaring, snowcapped peaks of the Valerian Mountains and the deep plunge of Braveheart Chasm. They galloped northwest across the sky, following the Valorians to the scythe-shaped curve of Celieria's Tivali Range, where they dove and turned through the ice- and snowbound peaks, startling iridescent pink and blue kolitou from their frozen aeries.

At sunrise, three days after leaving Navahele, they reached the northernmost apex of the Tivali curve. The Aquilines alit on the steep mountain slopes, and Fanor Farsight and the Elves took their leave of the Fey.

"This is where our paths part," Fanor said as they made their farewells. "Aquilines will not fly over open land outside of Elvia."

"Beylah vo, Fanor," Rain said. "For everything."

"Anio, it is I who thank you," the Elf replied. "What you did at the Lake of Glass... you gave me a way to make peace with a sorrow that has pained me all my life. For that, I will always be grateful."

"Will we ever meet again?" Ellysetta asked.

"I hope so." He took her hands and gazed into her eyes— not the deep, piercing stare of an Elf, but the warm gaze of a friend—and a faint smile softened his normally austere features. "And hope is a rare emotion for a race accustomed to knowing what the future holds."

Fanor's Aquiline, Stormsinger, had grown impatient. He snorted and pawed the ground, and his strong white teeth closed around the hem of the Elf's cloak, giving it a hard yank,

"We must go," Fanor said. "Stormsinger and his herd are uncomfortable in the mortal world." With an apologetic look, the Elf stepped back. "Farewell, my friends. May the Light guide you and grant you strength." His green cloak swirled behind him, and the copper leaves of his scale mail chimed as he swung back into the saddle behind Stormsinger's great white wings.

Rain, Ellysetta, and her bloodsworn quintet watched in silence as the Aquilines galloped towards the cliffs edge and leapt into the sky, broad wings spread wide to scoop the air and propel them upwards. Within a few chimes, they were tiny birdlike specks in the sky that dove into a cloud bank and disappeared.