That moment he'd left her bleeding as he pursued Morgynn into the temple had replayed itself a hundred times as he imagined himself sitting here with her.
He could still feel her hand on his cheek as he resolved what he must do. 'I'm just a ghost, Elisandrya Loethe, passing through,' he said, staring at the floor. Looking at her face, at her closed eyes, and listening to her soft breathing he added, 'And you deserve more than that.' He stood then, still watching her, and lifted his sword and shield from the floor. Turning away, he limped toward the door and stopped. Raising the shield before him, he contemplated the profile etched in the metal and turned back to lay it gently at her side.
The night air was cool as he made his way to the small eastern gate behind the temple. He sat by the wall for a while, unable to sleep. He'd listened to the whispering voices of those still awake in the temple's courtyard. He heard some of them wondering about all that had happened, asking why as they studied a sky newly returned after the storm. The question had never occurred to him, and he wasn't sure that it mattered. He supposed an answer might exist, somewhere in the past, now lost. The consequences of a moment gone awry had come to haunt the present. The idea filled his thoughts as he waited, watching the night pass. The soft glow of sunrise encroached upon the stars, but they were not yet dimmed when he felt the stirring in his blood, saw the distant horizon come alive with flickering shadow for his eyes alone. 'East again,' he muttered grimly, groaning as he stood. The eastern horizon taunted him as it had for months, always calling him closer to that from which he'd run. Unfathomable miles still separated him from the River of Swords, yet its nearness concerned him. Pain still ached within his body from Morgynn's magic, but did not bother him so much as the other pain he felt, wondering what he should do if he refused the call he'd followed for so many years. He watched the shadows for long heartbeats, standing still in the cold as he imagined other paths, places of his own choosing. Lowering his head, he took one step forward and faded away, leaving only wisps of swiftly dispersing shadow behind him.
That same dawn, Elisandrya awoke, weakened and in pain but insistent upon standing on her own two feet, despite her sister's protestations. Dreslya had told her of Quinsareth's visit while she studied the shield he'd left, instantly surmising what it was, having seen its depiction in the murals of the temple's sanctuary. A legend come to life, the Shield of Ossian from her childhood stories. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized what she was truly seeing in the shield's face. 'Where has he gone?' she asked, gingerly pulling herself up on Dres's staff, using it as a makeshift crutch. 'I don't know. I never saw him leave the room. When I asked the guards outside, they remembered seeing him walking toward the eastern gate.' Later, after making her way past her worrying sister, she'd walked to the wall around the Gardens of Thought on the backside of the temple, overlooking the small eastern gate, seldom used. The sun had just risen above the horizon, the warmth on her skin feeling strange after so many days under the storm. She knew he was gone, having knowledge of him she couldn't explain or put into words. Watching the grass stir in the warm wind, she searched the horizon, squinting in the sun's light and wondering where he was going, and if she might find him. The image on the shield, burned in her mind, would not leave her thoughts as she sought the tiny chance of catching his silhouette in the sunrise. The shield still lay on the bed she'd rested in, next to her father's bow, her own portrait etched on its face.
