- Chapter 4 -
Out of Darkness… Out of Light

The past a thing we can’t escape,
Sometimes now is still too late.
Bonds of light and love hold fast,
They say that hardship never lasts.

The view from his penthouse was, Gabriel had to admit, amazing. Surrounded by glass, he could see everything. Far below, the main thoroughfare ran through the heart of the city like a river of light. Tiny lights twinkled and shined, tiny stars that joined their fellows to become the supernova that was this city at night. Darkness tried so very hard to swallow that light, to banish it and make it no more. But, humanity did not give in, and it did not yield. Rather, it brought fourth the light to combat the darkness, that supernova in the terrestrial landscape. It was beautiful, and he loved it very much.

Gabriel sipped his brandy and looked on in silence, a Bose sound system playing Chopin softly in the background. There was no light in his simple but very trendy penthouse, save for the light of a fire, which burned in the classically inspired grate. The hour was nearing midnight, and he had only just arrived home. Not that it took long, for his world headquarters were housed in the skyscraper below him, one of many he owned in this city. Though he could have lived anywhere, had anything, he desired, he was a simple man at heart. He liked best to stand here, alone and in quiet contemplation, watching the world below.

What drove the people so far below? What errand or occupation, frivolity or fancy kept them out in this dark night? Did they rush to loving homes, eager loved ones? Or did they but walk like the living dead, going about the daily grind just trying to survive? Were they the lost and cast out, those who belonged nowhere, with no one to even care that they existed at all? He knew that there were all of those things down there in the light, in the presence of so much humanity.

And what of him? He was bourn aloft and into the darkness, secluded in his tower of glass. Though they looked up and envied him, thinking that he was a king among men, he knew the truth. He wished for nothing more than to be accounted among them. To have a smile turned to him in love, not calculation; a hand offered in friendship, not gain. He was utterly alone, cut off from the light down below. It was a prison of his own making, but a prison none the less

The one thing that made it all worthwhile, all the long hours, the years of his life, was the bottom line. He was going to make life better for all of those people down there in the light. No matter what it cost him, nor how long it took, he would make their lives better, better for all of them. Life was not just for the rich and powerful, it was the right of all living beings. Too long had the privileged forgotten their responsibility to those who looked to them for care. He was going to change all of that. He was going to make life worth living for everyone, not just those with the money to buy the lives and services of others. It was the one thing that drove him, gave meaning to his life. Money didn’t matter; power didn’t matter; only people mattered

Leannon didn’t understand, for she had never been down there, had never walked the slums and tenements. She didn’t have the faintest idea what it meant to be poor, to live in that hell. There was a kind of inhumanity about being poor that those who had never been there could never comprehend. A man without a job did not feel like a man. He lost his ability to care for his family, and thus everything that made him a man. When people lost their humanity, life became nothing more than a base drive to survive. The simple act of finding food, clothing, and a safe place to shelter became the wholeness of one’s world when one was poor… and it was a kind of dreadful dehumanization.

No one cared when you were poor. No one looked at you with anything more than quiet disgust or unwanted pity. Worse… worse was the apathy. People simply didn’t want to see the problem. As long as they could go about their comfortable lives, they didn’t care. They knew, like a cancer, that the problem was there, growing, but as long as they didn’t have to see it, it didn’t matter to them. So, the poor and downtrodden lost their humanity, and no one cared.

Gabriel understood. Gabriel cared.

His eyes were dark as he gazed at the twinkling river of light, lost in his thoughts. What would they all think, those rich and elite, if they knew the truth about him? Though he had never lied to any of them, they knew nothing of the truth. They saw in him what they desired, nothing more and nothing less. He was their golden boy, well bred, fantastically wealthy, and graceful. He knew all the right people, the right places to vacation, and stocks to buy. Gabriel was attractive and never arrogant, bright but never boasting. They all loved him, fawned over him, and adored him. And they knew nothing.

He was as much a part of their world as the press of humanity far below him. He was nothing like any of them. But they saw what they wanted to see. That was how the world worked. Truth was less important than perception, fact lost in omission.

Gabriel sighed. It wouldn’t be long now, though. He had gotten the deed to the land he needed to build his housing project late this evening, and work could begin in the morning. Everything he had spent his entire life to achieve was falling into place. It wouldn’t be long and all of this illusionary life would become obsolete. He could finally dedicate his time to serving humanity, caring for them, just like he had always dreamed. The poor would not be forgotten and overlooked any longer, the elite would not rule with their gold. Everyone would be granted the simple beauty of their humanity, and no one would have to worry about where to sleep or what to eat again. It would start small, but change would come. He knew it would.

The clock on the wall chimed the midnight hour. Time to be getting to bed, really. But, he had a few things that needed looking in upon before he could indulge in the luxury of sleep, things that would not wait. So, he downed the rest of what was in his glass, and turned from his view.

The river of light would go on. It always did.

~~*†*~~

His head was pounding. No… that would be an understatement. It felt as if someone were jabbing him in the brain with a million tiny little hot pokers until he just wanted to scream and make it all end. He was Death after all, he could do it. Couldn’t he? He didn’t even know anymore. He didn’t seem to know anything anymore. Along with the searing pain, he could feel his sense of self seeming to corrode away. Velorum could not help but wonder how much time they really had left… or how little as the case might be.

“That kind of thinking is not going to do us a great deal of good, my friend.” The voice was one he knew well… or had, anyway. It was very soft now, in the endless darkness, and edged with the ever presence of great suffering. Yet, for all the time they had been in this hellhole, and who knew how long that had been, Tearlin’s voice retained that essence of sunlight and hope. Without it, Velorum knew that he would have already succumbed to madness.

“And how, pray tell, do you know what I am thinking? For all you know I could be thinking about kittens and hot chocolate.” His tone was self-mocking.

Tearlin sat up a bit, or so Velorum assumed from the sound of shifting in the cage that hung not far from his own. In this eternal darkness it was impossible to really tell. The Dark Fae could practically feel the weight of those pale blue eyes upon him, as if they could split the darkness and see right through him.

“Educated guess, I suppose.” There was a lingering smile in the words, and it did not take Vel much to see it in his mind’s eye. He clung to the image like a drowning man to a life raft.

There was a long time of silence between them; there often was in this place. That was the worst part. Left alone in this darkness punctuated only by occasional visits by their jailor come to make sure they weren’t dead ‘yet’, they had a great deal of time to think. Velorum was not happy with the places that those thoughts took him, and less and less often was he able to stave off the waves of soul consuming guilt and despair that sent him teetering on the edge of nothingness. It seemed those were always the moments, when he was most wretched, that he heard Tear’s gentle voice pulling him back in to himself, reminding him who he was and that this was not yet the end.

“They are getting closer, you know,” Tearlin said almost cheerfully. How he could manage that with the agony Velorum knew that he must be in was beyond the Dark Fae.

“I cannot tell anymore,” he finally answered with a sigh. “The darkness of this place is too hard for me to separate from my own, and I cannot feel anything but that.”

“They are closer, trust me. I know their essence; their lives are so closely bound to ours that they are the last thing that fades. I have lost everyone else, but not them. Rain and Echo are out there, and they are looking for us, Velorum. We just have to remain steadfast. They will come, I know they will come.”


Velorum found himself wondering if those words, spoken with such heartbreaking conviction, were really meant to reassure him, or if Tearlin too was clinging to his own sanity by just that fragile of a thread. He knew that he did not want to know the answer. Instead he replied, “That is good news, then, and I will take heart in it. Thank you, my friend.”

Again, there was that stretching silence between them. Once, not so very long ago, it would have been cold and laden. Now, it was simply silence. They had come back to the place they had once been… been before Vermillion’s schemes had driven them nearly to destroying one another. It had been a very near thing, too near. Velorum did not like to think about those days, and instead focused upon the events that had brought them to their current state.

Vermillion. Again there was that traitor pulling the strings that tore their world apart. Velorum could not help but admit a great deal of pleasure in the knowledge that Darkness had finally killed the bastard. That much he had been able to feel, even through the spell weave that had kept him and Tearlin from being able to make any kind of escape attempt during their early captivity. How the Ruby Prince of the Dark Fae had even managed to craft these cages in the first place was beyond him. It must have taken the Unseelie High Lord decades and untold hours of spell work and resources, both from Alesya and from the Mortal Realm.

How very much he must have hated us, he thought with a little bit of sorrow. Vermillion had not always been their gravest enemy. Once… once they had been close friends. Yet, the Ruby Prince had let his own ambition and jealousy get the better of him, which had led him down the long and twisted path of ruin that was his fate. More the pity that he had drawn so many others down that path with him. The war between the Seelie and Unseelie had cost a great many lives and ruined countless others. The Avatars had not escaped the destruction and taint of Vermillion’s web of plotting any more than anyone else.

But Vermillion was gone, dead, his magic and essence as a Prince returned to the Wells of Magic from which all magic issued. Some day, a new Ruby Prince of the Dark Fae would be born, this time with a chance to make better choices than Vermillion had done. When and where this Prince would be born, no one knew, save perhaps Tearlin. It was a warming thought, that there would be a chance to do things right next time, to make a better future than they had made of the past. No matter what should come to pass, the next Ruby Prince, boy or girl, could make a path for good, and that made so much of this suffering worth it. Hope… hope was always worth it.

It was not hope, however, which had bourn them here, nor was it the will of Vermillion, now dead. Velorum found it a constant source of vexation that he still did not, after all this time, even know whom to thank for his delightful imprisonment. He could remember the cemetery and the battle there, as well as feeling Vermillion’s Death and the rise of Darkness. But something had gone dreadfully wrong… something no one had foreseen. Unknown men, well trained and armed to perfection, had crashed the battle between the Seelie and Unseelie, snatching up the cages that held the spell bound Avatars of Life and Death. The next thing that Vel remembered was this darkness… and so it had been ever since.

There were the occasional visits from their host, though they never saw who it was in proper light. Always it seemed that he or she was shrouded in some kind of obscuring spell weave, making it impossible to make out anything other than the eternally calm demeanor of the one who held them. One thing, however, was clear; whoever it was, they had superior knowledge of the Faery. They had know just when and how to hit them the hardest and to the fullest effect. And worse, they had been well prepared. Though he had no way of knowing exactly where they were, Velorum was fairly sure that it was almost beyond reaching. In the early days of their arrival here, when he had still had some strength to rage and rail against their plight, he had felt the strength of the magical weave all around them. It made him think that this was some sort of magically crafted space, like a pocket dimension. A small pocket of space that did not exist in the normal folds of reality. Avalon had been removed to just such a place, and so he knew that such things were not impossible, just very, very difficult.

He was also fairly sure that whomever their host was, they were not themselves faery. He had not sensed the innate magical aura that is the life of the Magical Folk of Alesya. Yet, if they were human, they were amazingly skilled, and must have at least been faery taught. Many of the Watchers he knew who dedicated their lives to the study of magic were powerful mages, and thus it was not impossible for a Mortal to have reached this level of skill and discipline. He did not rule out other beings, however.

The Dragon folk had never gotten on very well with the Faery, though it had been ages since they stirred beyond their kingdom in Alesya. This was not their style. They were content in their self-imposed isolation. Neither Vampire kin nor the Blood Fae had any love of the Avatars, and both could have had their reasons for this sort of attack. However, Velorum did not sense any of the ire or lasting enmity that he would have expected from either of those two folk toward Tearlin and himself. Rather, it seemed a very clinical mind that they dealt with, one who was not keeping them for personal gain, but for some other end. What that end might be, he did not know, but it worried him. An enemy whose mind he could not know was one who would be all that much harder to best.

Tearlin’s soft chuckle brought him out of his repetitious thoughts yet again. “I can practically hear the gears in your head turning, Vel.”

“Am I so obvious?”

“Mmhm. But then, I am a fine one to talk, who dwells in the far off fields of the past, in a time when we were happy. I know it does not change the present, but t’is more comforting to think that we were once happy and will be again, than dwell on the sorry state that defines our present.” Tearlin sighed softly, longingly.

For a long moment, Velorum thought he might just let Tearlin’s words settle into the shadows, but found himself desiring to lift his friend’s spirits. Darkness was his nature, the very core of his being. How much worse must this all be for Tearlin, Light Fae who delighted most in sunlight and soft laughter? What hell must it be for him, to be sundered from everything that was the core of him? He shuddered.

“There was a time, right after Adion died, that I thought I would never feel again. I think I wanted very much to die right then, as much as I had when Rain left me after Xaron’s fall. This… this is bad, here helpless in the endless dark, but not so bad as that was. If I made it through that… I think we can make it through this too, Tear. You were always the stronger of us, I think.”

Tearlin’s soft chuckle reached him through the void. “Me? I think not. I have had a lot less to lose than you, Vel. That makes a big difference. I think… no, I know, that I would not have handled what you have been through with near as much grace as you have managed. You do not give yourself enough credit. You are an amazing person, and stronger than anyone I know.”

His friend’s words, simply and sincerely expressed, brought a lump unbidden to his throat. He’d always felt such a failure, but here was Tearlin making it all seem alright. Truly, the Light Fae was a gem among friends, and he was thankful, not for the first time, that of anyone, it was Tearlin here beside him.

“You have spoken of Adion, and everyone at the Fall still mourns him, yet I did not know him. Tell me about him… please? He sounds like someone I would have liked to know.”

Velorum bowed his head. “You would have liked him very much. He was…” Words failed him. After a long moment, he began, not with Adion as a teen, but at the beginning, when he had been a boy, as he had been when Velorum had first known him.

~~*†*~~

“Vel,” came the happy squeal of the six year-old that ran at top speed down he flagstone hallway. He was scrawny, even for a kid, with mousy, reddish brown hair and exuberant dark blue eyes. He crashed into the Avatar of Death with a hug, though his diminutive height only permitted him to grasp the nearly six foot tall Fae’s knees. A pink blush of pleasure colored said Fae’s porcelain white cheeks and there was a happy spark in his emerald eyes that was rarely present.

“Adion, leave Lord Velorum be,” came the stern and Irish accented voice of the child’s older brother, Seamus. The broad shouldered and well-muscled man was far older than the child, some twenty years or so, as his younger sibling was something of an unlooked-for miracle. Age, however, did not impair one from noting the family resemblance.

The Avatar held out a forestalling hand and awarded he Watcher with a grin. Seamus relented and stood back to watch the Faery with his little brother. He knew Velorum probably as well as any Mortal could, and yet seeing the shy and stoic Lord of Death with children was a completely unique experience. As with the orphaned Beccah, Velorum’s face lit up when Adion was around. It was as if all the hurt and cares of his Immortality fell away and he was as Seamus liked to think he must be deep inside. There was a softness to his features, a light in his eyes that was only present when he was playing with the children. Though it was still an incongruent image to see Death playing with a six year-old and an eight year-old as if he was one of them, he rather liked it. After all, if Death could appreciate the pure joy and innocence inherent in the soul of a child; perhaps they all had a chance.

Unaware of the thoughts in the Irishman’s head, Velorum turned his full attention upon the child who had so warmly greeted him. He bent down on a knee so that the little one would not have to look up, and to show him that he did not look down upon him, but rather regarded him as an equal. “And how does the day find my favorite would-be Bard?” A smile caressed his pale lips.

Adion ignored the courtly greeting completely, his mind on one track only. “Seamus didn’t tell me you were gonna visit! Did you bring Becky with you?” Hope shone in his kind eyes. Adion was probably the only person on earth who could get away with calling her ‘Becky’ and not earn either a flaying glare or a punch in the arm.

Velorum shook his head sadly. “I fear not, my friend. She has gone to Japan for the summer to do some training. I shall bring her back in the autumn. I know that she misses you, though.”

The boy’s eyes grew wide. “She does?”

Adion had followed Beccah, Velorum’s ward, since he could walk. Her parents and Seamus’ were Watchers, close friends. The night of bloodshed that had begun with her parents had not ended then, and had claimed the boys’ as well. The memory as a sad one for all of those involved, and had only served to bind the littlest casualties of the Seelie and Unseelie war closer together. Adion had eyes for her alone, though the stoic girl pretended not to notice. Even at eight, she had the insight and emotional depth of an adult.

The Dark Fae nodded. “Aye. And she asked me to give you this.” From a black coat pocket, the raven-haired Lord drew an impossibly beautiful carved dragon in the Eastern style.

“Oh wow!” The boy exclaimed, taking it with great care from the Faery’s hand. “It’s so cool!” He looked up from it and met Velorum’s dark eyes. “Is it magic?”

“That shall be for you to determine. A Bard should be able to tell the magic of a thing. Keep at your studies and you shall be able to tell for yourself.” He stood, as Adion turned to skip away down the hall with the dragon tucked lovingly in is hands, singing as he went.

Seamus shook his head and watched the little one with a smile on his face for a moment before walking over to shake his Lord’s hand. “Ye know ye’ve made ‘is day.” He chuckled.

“That was the idea.”

He motioned for the Watcher to precede him out into the courtyard of the sixteenth century castle that was serving as the Watcher’s Headquarters here in the South of Ireland. The grounds were stunning, even in the early spring gray of impending rain. The Earth Fae had truly outdone themselves this year, and Vel could detect the delicate weavings of Light Fae handiwork as well. It was a haven for the weary of spirit, as it had been meant to be. Seamus’ mother, the High Lord of the Watchers until her untimely death, had always wanted the place to be a respite and place of healing for those who needed it. She had succeeded.

“E’s got a real gift, Adion. Just like Da ‘ad,” Seamus mused.

“Your father was one of the finest Bards I’ve ever known, and your mother a warrior beyond compare. I miss them.”

There was old sorrow in the Lord’s voice, but it did not sound as painful a wound as it had once sounded. Seamus did not think even he or his brother mourned their parents’ passing as much as this Faery did. Somehow, that made him feel better about the whole thing, at least in some small part. Shared sorrow, it seemed, brought people together and lessened the weight of it.

“The Druids are gathering, my Lord,” the Watcher said, finally getting to the matter for which he had called the High Lord of the Dark Fae. “The Mystics ’ave come as well. I’ve gathered as many as I know to be loyal and trustworthy. No word should reach the Seelie Court that you’re here, so far as I know.”

Velorum nodded in appreciation. “I cannot express my thanks enough. I know that you understand how important it is that they not know. Too many of them think that I am out to destroy them out of vengeance. Even if I wished to go to them now, their ears would be closed. It is easier for them to believe ill of me than to actually act or take responsibility for Amethyst’s evil.” He sighed. “Do we know where the last of the Bards are located so that they can be safeguarded?”

“Aye. I’ve sent out the word. Most o’ the rest o’ the Watchers know that the Violet Betrayer is up te something. He’s nae been subtle, after all. ‘E’s slaughtered most o’ the living Bards in the last five years. That’s nae somethin’ we’re overlookin’.”

The raven-haired Lord nodded. “Good. Amethyst knows that it would be a sorry blow to Mortals to lose the Bards. As the only ones who can weave Mortal and Faery magics into one cohesive tapestry, we cannot afford to be without them now. I know that he most fears Sapphire’s last prophecy, which centers around a Bard. The Bards are really the only ones left around here who can bridge the gap between the Faery and Mortals. Most of the Old Courts went Underhill after…” His voice caught.

Seamus rescued him with grace, knowing that it pained him to speak about the fall of his son. “I know, my Lord. Nae worry, we’ won’t let the bastard win.” He could not help but look back at the castle where his brother was probably right that moment playing with Velorum’s gift. Little did the lad know just how precious he was to them all… or in how very much danger.

As if reading his thoughts, Velorum said, “You have reason to fear for him. Adion will be the most powerful Bard of your age, I feel it already. Amethyst will try and corrupt him, and if he fails at that, he will try and kill him. I will do everything in my power to see that does not happen.”

The Watcher turned his hazel gaze upon the Dark Fae, an odd moment of foreboding settling upon him. Sight had never been one of his gifts, but this was a chill he could not simply dismiss. Adion and Velorum were bound in some way he could not discern, his fate and that of Beccah as well. A shadow that was not mere darkness, but dread, awaited them all. Only time would determine if it would succeed.

Velorum sighed, a sound that carried with it the weight of countless ages. Seamus studied the Faery for the long moment of silence that settled between them. Vel looked tired, more so than he had seen him in a long time. There was more troubling him than simply the trouble with the Unseelie. He wished that he could help, but knew that there was likely nothing he could do. If there were, Vel would have told him. Still, it was hard to know that his friend was troubled and that he was powerless to do anything about it.

“I was wondering if I could spend some time with Adion after the council. I can see that he’s been working hard on his discipline, I can hear it in his voice. It might be time to teach him a few new things and see how he does with them.” Vel looked thoughtful as they walked, the rain-laden breeze pulling at his long coat.

Seamus shrugged. “Ye know ‘e adores ye, drinks in every moment with ye ‘e can. I’m sure ‘e’d love any time ye wanna give ‘im.” He paused, considering the larger implications of Velorum’s request. “Ye really think ‘e’ can handle it? I mean, being a Bard is no easy task, and ‘e’s still so very young. I’d hate to see ‘im change… because we pushed ‘im too far too fast.”

Vel ran a distracted hand through his hair. “I know. I have my own fears on that account. Yet, I cannot help but wish to see him as well armed as we can make him. The Unseelie will not relent in their hunt for him, nor will they old back if it comes to a fight. I will spare every moment I can to train with him, but you know that I can’t be here all the time. I truly believe that he has both the strength of will and the capability to grow at a pace beyond what his years might grant him. He’s amazing, Seamus, really.”

The Irishman smiled. Velorum really cared about the boy, that much was resoundingly clear. He would never do anything that would cause the boy any measure of harm. “Alright, then. I’ll trust ye to know what’s best for ‘im. Just let me know what ye need ‘o me, ye know I’ll see to it.”

A rare smile lit the Faery Lord’s face like sunlight. It was always remarkable how that simple smile could change the Dark Fae’s entire appearance. “Thank you, my friend. Ever and always, thank you.”

~~*†*~~

When Velorum fell silent after this first bit of story telling, Tearlin gave him a moment to himself. It was not often that Velorum spoke of what he felt, or through what he had been. Of all of them, he kept most to himself, was so much the shy and introverted one. Yet, here he was, sharing something that must be truly painful for him. Though this first bit of the tale was not sorrowful in and of itself, it was made so in knowing the eventual conclusion of it. The bright and promising lad, Adion, had died at Amethyst’s hand despite everything Velorum had done to protect him. Sensing that the Dark Fae was spiraling down into those familiar thoughts of self-loathing and guilt, Tearlin reached out.

“I can tell that you really cared about him, Vel. That is a great gift, to have earned the love of such a one. Do not let yourself forget that dwelling only in that which is sorrowful.”

Velorum’s voice, when he spoke, was soft, sad. “I loved that Mortal as much as my own son… maybe even more. I thought… thought that maybe I could fix the mistakes I had made with Xaron. I thought that I could protect him, Tear. I thought that I had everything under control. I was so wrong.”

Tearlin’s heart broke for the pain he heard carved on the soul of his opposite. For Velorum, this wound was still new, still unhealed. Despite the place of peace he and Seamus had reached, Velorum still would not forgive himself. Could not. He felt that he had failed not once, but twice… failed both of the boys who had looked to him as a father figure.

“I had heard that Adion made his own choice, Vel, despite your urging. You and I both know full well that it is the right of Mortals to chose their own path, even if we know unto where that path will lead. The boy had a right to chose, and you bear no blame for that.” Tearlin wanted so very much to help his friend forgive himself, but knew all too well that such weights were not so easily lifted. He, after all, had his own… and her name was Z’iel.

He was about to say something more when a door opened some distance from them, letting in the soft gray light from beyond. Their captor, come to see that they yet lived. Tearlin’s kind face set in hard lines; even in the darkness his anger was apparent. We have to get out of here, he thought to himself for the millionth time. I cannot take this much longer…

~~*†*~~

The night before had not been an early one. With so many revelations, how could it be? Upon deciding to vacate the very public main floor of the club, the group had retired to the far more quiet and secure compound located in secret beneath Adion’s Fall. At Ren’s suggestion, they had taken to the comfortable and cozy main library, a place that would have fit right in at Velorum’s manner. Rich, carved oak bookcases lined every wall from floor to ceiling. Many of the tomes would have made the eyes of any true collector pop, for they were ancient and almost beyond value. Some, most, were newer transcriptions. Still, the room, some thirty feet by forty feet, was huge, making the collection contained therein that much more impressive. And this was but on of the libraries.

Everyone seated themselves at the main table, an Edwardian affair that could have easily seated twenty or thirty people. The chairs were high backed and leather, ornate and varying as the tastes of the indulgent Faery who had collected them. The entire room had a very warm and well-used feeling about it, which was good, as the folk who now assembled there seemed slightly tightly strung. Given the unusual nature of their make up, that was not completely unexpected.

Chelle took a seat between Devlin and Meg, Sol taking the seat on Devlin’s empty right hand side. Ren, as Commander of the Watchers, as little as he cared about the title, took his place at the head of the table, Beccah on his right. Avarin sat a seat down from her, across from Michelle where he continued to avoid her plaintive gaze. It was Beccah, seemingly amused by the drama of the group, who broke the silence.

“So, we have a Mortal who seems to have an uncanny knack for befriending Light Fae and knows a great deal more than she should about the Faery in general, and an unknown element of a stray brought in by our dear Dev. Did I miss anything?”

“Hey,” Devlin piped up with a little bit of indigence, “Sol is not a stray. He needs our help and compassion, Bec, not to be mocked.” She gave the Watcher woman something of a glare.

Sol shifted uncomfortably in his chair, painfully aware of all the eyes staring at him. He appreciated how zoo animals must feel. “It’s alright, Dev. Really. I… I understand. Maybe… maybe I should go.” He knew he shouldn’t have come, but Dev had been so sweet and wanted to help so much that he had been unable to refuse her. That and, honestly, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. With no idea where he was from, where he was, or where to begin, this had seemed as good a place as any. And something, deep within, had wanted to go with her… needed to go with her. It was an odd compulsion that he couldn’t quite explain himself.

“Oh no you don’t,” Beccah shot right back. “Now you’re here, too late to go back now. You’re not leaving here until I’m satisfied that you’re really who and what you say you are, kid.” Her stone cold set of features said that no one had better argue with her. Devlin, it seemed, was not intimidated.

“Or what, Beccah? You don’t mean to keep him here against his will, do you? That’s unethical and I won’t have it! I told Sol I’d help him, and I mean to keep my word. That does not mean you get to treat him like some kind of criminal just because he doesn’t meet your standards of self awareness!” She had jumped to her feet and was standing with her arms crossed, glaring at Bec.

“Okay, okay, let’s take it easy now, ladies. I think we’re all a little wound up. Does someone wanna fill me in on what’s going on?” Ren let his gaze rest for a moment on each woman, entreating them to take his offered path of reason. Things were getting just a little more heated than he liked them and could see the eventual resolution of this little situation if left unchecked.

“It’s all pretty simple, Ren. This guy could be anyone. Could be one of the Unseelie, sent here to infiltrate our HQ and blow us all to the next life. Doesn’t remember a thing? And what’s with the screwy aura? Can’t nail him down as one thing or another, ad that’s just freaking weird. I don’t trust anything that doesn’t add up, that’s my job ‘round here. It keeps us all very much healthy and alive.” She leaned back in her chair as if that was the end of the matter.

Ren could not argue that Beccah had an uncanny sense for trouble. And she had always done her best to look out for the Watchers and keep everyone safe. On more than on occasion her innate sense of a person’s intentions had saved all of their hides. However, she was also suspicious to a fault of everything. If Sol was really just a Fairy in need of help with no idea who he was or what was wrong with him, then it was the duty and mission of the Watchers to aid him in any way that they could. He sighed. He hated this kind of crap. However, he donned a wry smile and turned to Sol.

“And what’s your story, then, mate? Is Beccah here right?”

Sol, whose eyes, impossibly, changed from a dark brown to something akin to midnight blue, met the Commander’s gaze evenly for a long moment. Finally, he just shrugged. “She could be. I wish I knew, man. For all I know, I was as rotten as they come. You wanna know what my intentions are at this moment? To find out what the hell happened to me and fix it. I don’t mean any ill to you or anyone else, you’ve my word on that much. Devlin here has gone way out of her way for a complete stranger, and that’s pretty amazing. I wish I could repay that with more information, but I just won’t have it for you. I wish like hell I did.”

Ren mulled over the strange Fae’s words and sought Meg’s eyes across the table. Her sapphire eyes, so expressive, told him that she wanted him to give the multi hued Sol a chance. He decided to have a little faith.

“Alright, I believe you.” Devlin’s face split in a grin and she leaned over to give Sol a hug, taking her seat once more. Beccah looked ready to spit. “However, I’d like you to willingly remain here with us so that we can see what we can help you remember. We have a good number of Seers on staff, as well as some very skilled mages and druids. Someone here could be able to help you unlock whatever your mind has seen fit to hide away. It also means we can protect you from anyone who might be after you. Give us a little time to do some checking up, see if anyone’s heard anything, and make sure you’re not in any danger. After that, you can come and go as you like, no strings.”

Sol thought for a moment and nodded. “Sounds fair enough. Not like I have anywhere else to go. It’s only good sense to make sure to cover all your bases, I don’t hold it against ya.”

Ren smiled. “Good.” He looked down at his watch, seeing that it was already after two am. “It’s really late, guys, and there’s stuff waiting for me in the morning. It might be a good idea for all of you to stay here for the evening.”

Avarin twitched, clearly not really of a mind to be parted from his research for that long. Meg didn’t give him a chance to discent.

“Ren’s right, Chelle, Avarin. Besides, the library here is amazing, and I bet Michelle would be a huge asset in the research department. We’re all at dead ends, and a new point of view could be just what we need right now.”

Avarin bit his bottom lip, an unconscious habit of his when he was uncertain. “Yes, but… There’s still so much we need to talk about… so much I don’t understand.”

Chelle gave him a reassuring smile. “We’ll have plenty of time for that in the morning, I promise. Truth be told, I’d love a chance to sort out some of my own confusions about some of the stuff that’s been going on around town in the last year or so. If it really wouldn’t be any trouble, and someone’s got a spare toothbrush, I’d be more than happy to stay.”

He finally relented, returning her smile. “Alright then. I know there’s no talking you out of a thing once you’ve made up your mind anyway. We’ll stay.”

“Awesome,” Ren said standing. “Let’s get everyone settled in, then, and we can meet back here for breakfast after a little sleep. I’m sure everything will make more sense then.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Beccah said ominously as she left the table with a last long look at Sol.