Roland knocked on the door. There was a brief wait, and then the door unlocked, and cracked open. A red, frog-like face peered out with large, sea-blue eyes.
“You must be Roland,” said a voice Roland had never heard before, craggy and rough, not like mountains or rocks but like the waves of the Forlorn Sea crashing against the Aching Heights. His lilting, rolling accent was familiar, though, just like his Teacher’s, and Eilidh’s.
“I am,” Roland said, finding his voice. “Is Eilidh home?”
“She is not,” the frog said. Those large eyes passed over the twins and Tsubasa, then went back to Roland. “Would you like to come inside?”
There was something in that voice, now that Roland heard it speak a little bit more. Something distant, lonely, lost.
“If it isn’t too much trouble, I… well, do you know when she might be back?” Roland asked. “I… it’s long overdue that I speak with her. And I have questions. I need her guidance.”
“She and Alystair weren’t the only Summoners among our people,” the frog said. He stood back, opening the door fully. “Come inside. Perhaps I can help you.”
“You’re… Muirrach?” Roland asked, holding out his right hand. “I’m sorry we never met before today.”
In the doorway, now fully revealed, stood a frog-man that, hunched over as he was, still stood over a foot taller than Roland. His red skin was mottled with spots of dark orange, brown, and greyish-blue. It was difficult for humans unused to the animal-like peoples of Wonderia to estimate their age at a glance, but Roland had spent more time than most with frog-kin. He saw the faint hint of a cloud in Muirrach’s eyes, the slight lines around his wide mouth, and knew that he was about the age of his Teacher, something akin to the late forties for a human. He was dressed in a sleeveless, tailed jacket over a low cut shirt, revealing a pendant hanging from his thick neck, inset with an aquamarine gemstone. His legs wore three-quarter length pants, while his webbed feet were bare.
He glanced at Roland’s outstretched hand, and then held out his left hand. Which made Roland trying to shake his hand with his right awkward — and then Roland noticed something, a detail he should have noticed right away.
Muirrach only had one arm. His right arm was gone, only the smallest stump remaining at his shoulder.
“So sorry,” Roland said quickly, holding out his left hand and shaking Muirrach’s. Muirrach’s skin was surprisingly warm, smooth, faintly moist.
“Don’t apologize,” Muirrach said. He stepped aside and nodded inward. “This was once your home. It hasn’t changed too much. Come on in.”
“Us too, right?” Tsubasa asked, bright and cheerful.
“That was implied,” Muirrach said.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Erika said, and she and Enrique bowed, then introduced themselves. Muirrach shook their hands, and then was faced with Tsubasa. Her sunshine-fueled cheer stood in stark contrast to Muirrach’s dour, serious expression, her upright, confident posture to his hunched, weary stance.
“I’m Tsubasa!” Tsubasa said, sticking out her left hand. “It’s delightful to meet you, Mister Muirrach!”
“Drop the honorific,” Muirrach said, shaking her hand. She shook firmly, but Muirrach showed no change in expression.
“Muirrach, then!” Tsubasa said. She let go and looked around the cottage’s interior. “So this is your home? And Roland lived here as a child? How exciting!”
“I’m sorry about all the commotion,” Roland said, pausing behind a tall armchair. He rested his hands on it lightly, taking it in. Taking it all in. The slight give of the floorboard right here, the faint creak when he put pressure on it. The oaky scent, mingled with the smells of loamy soil, grass after the rain, and seafoam lilies. The low lighting in here, dim but warm, tinged with gentle colors by the stained glass.
The same. It was all the same. A bit older, a bit less organized, with tiny hints of dust that had never lasted long when Roland had lived here, but other than tiny details…
It was just as he remembered it.
“Would you like some lunch?” Muirrach asked, striding across the family room towards the kitchen. “We don’t have much at the moment, but it should be enough.”
“Don’t overextend yourself for our sakes,” Tsubasa said cheerfully. “We can have a late lunch afterwards if it’s too much trouble.”
“No trouble,” Muirrach said. Every word, every line, delivered the same way — straightforward, a bit wearily, but otherwise not hinting at emotion.
I wish I’d met him before. I wish I’d known what he was like. I don’t have any frame of reference to go off of, and without Eilidh here, the familiar is strangely overruled by this man. This is his home, a home I know so well, and yet its resident feels like a stranger.
“So!” Tsubasa said, plopping down on a circular stool, looking at Roland. “You’re here for Eilidh?”
“Muirrach’s wife,” Roland said, nodding, “and my Teacher — Master Alystair’s — sister. Excuse me.” He didn’t sit, even as the twins were taking seats near Tsubasa. “I’m going to see what I can do.”
“I said it was no trouble,” Muirrach said when Roland entered the kitchen. Muirrach was working at the counter, arranging a salad of fruits and leafy veggies, in the midst of smaller plates and bowls that would soon house the soup that was brewing on the stove. A kettle was also on, starting to boil.
“I just…” Roland started, glancing at Muirrach’s missing arm. And then he bowed his head.
Come now, Roland. He isn’t the first person missing a limb you’ve worked with, and you know how others feel about calling attention to what they lack.
“I’ve had longer than you’ve been alive to get accustomed to only having one arm,” Muirrach said. He didn’t look at Roland, didn’t see where Roland looked. But then, Roland coming to see if he could help could easily have given away the bent of his thoughts. “Though if you came to talk, there is value to just the two of us conversing.”
“Oh,” Roland said. “Yes, I… I wanted to… well. The first thing I’d planned to do was apologize to Eilidh.”
“You both suffered a loss when Alystair died,” Muirrach said. The kettle started to whistle, and he let it for a moment. “And she blames you for nothing.”
“Not for that,” Roland said. “I… she reached out to me. Multiple times. She was so gracious, so kind, and I… I only responded once. And while I didn’t reject her kindness, I was terse, and ungrateful. And then I… I just couldn’t…” His voice caught in his throat. “I shouldn’t have let it go at that. I shouldn’t have disappeared from her life.”
“No apologies necessary,” Muirrach said. He removed the kettle from the stove and set it on the tray. “She knew that you blamed yourself for his death. She only wanted to find a way to tell you that you were wrong.”
“But I —” Roland started.
“I was with him, at the end,” Muirrach said. Now he finally turned to face Roland, his round eyes rippling with the faintest emotion. “He wanted Eilidh and I to watch over you, if we could. To ensure you never gave up. He said that you could finish what he’d started in you. ‘He will be the finest Summoner the realms have ever seen. He will be the one to open the door to lost Elysia.’ ” Muirrach’s voice changed as he quoted Roland’s Teacher. Lighter, softer, warmer. For a moment, Roland could feel his Teacher’s presence here in this room, between the two of them. Tears stung his eyes, and he wiped at them hastily.
“All that he did, he did for you,” Muirrach said, his voice returning to its craggier tonality. “Even that fateful duel.” At the question in Roland’s eyes, he held up a hand. “Leave it. You have other questions, more pressing and urgent. There will be time to know Alystair’s story. Now is the time for your own story. And…” he turned back to the stove, ladling soup into five separate bowls, “lunch is ready.”
Roland resisted the urge to help Muirrach with the tray, and Muirrach ably carried it out to the family room, setting it down on the low table in the center of the seating area. “Please, eat,” he said, and remained standing until everyone else had sat and served themselves. Then he sat, close to the table, setting plate and bowl and mug in front of him, pouring tea and then adding a dollop of honey, stirring. He eyed Roland. “You’ve made friends. Eilidh would be glad to see it.”
Roland felt himself blushing, and hoped it didn’t show. “Do… do you know when she might return?” Roland asked.
“She’s gone far away,” Muirrach said. “I’m not entirely sure when she will return, but it will be a long time. Best to get what help you can from me, if I can help you, than wait for her.”
“So you’re a Summoner, too?” Tsubasa asked, leaning forward.
“A scholar,” Muirrach said. “And I know well the tale of Roland’s past efforts, and the failure with Shureen.” He looked back at Roland. “Your struggle was understanding her song, yes?”
“That’s right,” Roland said. He sipped at his tea, and even without honey or milk it was delicious, a fragrant, flowery blend that filled his heart with a soothing warmth. He decided not to modify it. “Kirin, and Viatos, they were both so easy to understand. Their songs touched my heart — we bonded instantly. Master Alystair warned me that Shureen would be challenging, and he gave me a primer and walked me through her unique language. Only…”
“It didn’t do any good,” Muirrach said. Roland nodded. “But now you think you’ve made a breakthrough?”
“Yes,” Roland said. He reached into his bag, pulling out a notebook. “I think water is the key. The illusionary waterfalls before her cloister — I don’t think they were merely doorways. I think they remained, even inside her cloister.”
“A compelling theory,” Muirrach said. He took a bite out of his sandwich, and the others ate theirs, too. Roland took a moment to try out the soup and sandwiches himself. The sandwiches were crisp with leafy vegetables and sharp cheese, balancing nicely with the smooth, creamy soup that had a touch of cinnamon and something new, something Roland didn’t recognize. It had a bit of a snap, a bite to it on first contact that receded swiftly to something smoothly sweet, initial shock transforming to warm, comforting delight.
“I’ve enjoyed a great deal of Eilidh’s cooking in the past,” Roland said, “but I’ve never had this before.”
“It’s my own recipe,” Muirrach said. He didn’t elaborate.
“It’s wonderful!” Erika said, beaming. “Thank you very much, Muirrach.” Enrique added his own gratitude and praise to hers, and Tsubasa chimed in with characteristic cheer. Roland spied a small smile touch Muirrach’s wide mouth, just for a moment.
And Roland went on, explaining his theory about the watery workings in Shureen’s cloister, sharing with Muirrach the notes and diagrams he’d drawn up. “Sound is always different through water,” Roland said. “What I expected to hear, expected to find, was warped in ways that neither I nor Master Alystair expected. But after many tests, I figured out what exactly was used and how, and can adjust my own understanding in advance.”
“You figured out the type of water, its consistency, and the amounts at play,” Muirrach said. “That’s impressive. But what if Shureen changes things on your next visit?”
“That’s why my other tests helped,” Roland said. “I found a pattern. If reality doesn’t match my initial expectations — if she’s changed her methods on this second visit — I simply need to tune up or down. Once I match her pitch, that is my guide to translate her lyrics. Does that…” Roland paused, dialing back on his enthusiasm. “Does that make sense?”
“It does to me,” Tsubasa said. “Sorry, I know, the two of you are the experts, here. But my family works a lot with voice work, how voices change over time, how voices can sound different in different environments. That includes through water — it’s a long story,” she added, waving a hand at the curious looks of the twins. “My family gets up to a lot of strange experiments and training techniques. Anyway! I think you’re probably onto something there, Roland.”
“As do I,” Muirrach said. “But don’t rely too heavily on this.” He indicated the pages where Roland had drawn up direct translation guides depending on pitch and tonality.
“How else would I understand her?” Roland asked.
“When she attacked you, and Alystair took the blow,” Muirrach said, “why do you think she attacked in the first place?”
“I failed the test,” Roland said, guilt squeezing his heart. “She sang her song, and I failed to understand it. So she attacked.”
“Then you do not see,” Muirrach said, shaking his head. “Think on Kirin. On Viatos. You have formed the Pacts with them, accepted their songs into your heart. What was it like, connecting with them? When you reached their cloisters, was their song a test that you succeeded, like writing a brilliant essay or choosing the right answers?”
Roland stared at Muirrach, understanding slowly dawning on him. He closed his eyes, one hand touching his right arm, where the tattoos for Kirin and Viatos were marked with something more permanent even than ink. “The cloister wasn’t a test, not like what led to it,” he said softly. “Hearing their song… it was about understanding. Not about perfect translation, but about feeling, with my heart, and responding in kind. It was an… impromptu duet, of sorts.”
“A conversation,” Muirrach said.
“Yes,” Roland said. “They needed to see my heart just as I needed to see theirs.” He opened his eyes, and now, with greater understanding, came stronger guilt. “I entered her cloister… frightened. The trials I had to brave to reach her cloister were terrifying. Nothing was as it seemed in first two Canons, and then Shureen herself was so… awe-inspiring. Like Kirin, like Viatos, but more. I connected with them right away, but she seemed so alien, so impossible. So when she sang…” He shook his head, tears stinging his eyes. “From the first note, the first word, I was lost. My preparation failed me, and I… I was terrified, and confused, and…” He sucked in a breath. “The process of forming the Pact was already started. Her heart reached for mine, and mine hers. My fear… it became her own. Didn’t it?”
He looked at Muirrach, and Muirrach looked back at him, deep empathy reflected in those large, glistening eyes. “She was not punishing you for failure,” Muirrach said.
Silence stretched between them. The next words were for Roland to say.
In hushed tones, his voice breaking, Roland said, “She was lashing out in self-defense. In fear.”
And that fear was my fear.
I did this. The attack that crippled my Teacher came because of my own fear, overwhelming the heart of a being I was supposed to connect with, to respect and trust.
It’s all… my fault…
“Even with the greatest preparation, there are failures we cannot prevent,” Muirrach said gently. “But if we let failure rule our lives, then we will never become who we can truly be. Do not cast aside your guilt, Roland, nor ignore it. But neither let it rule your heart. Now you know what went wrong. Now you know what you must do right. You won’t fail the same way again, will you?”
Roland shook his head. “Never,” he said softly.
“Then Alystair can rest peacefully,” Muirrach said, “knowing his favorite student hasn’t stopped learning.”
“Thank you,” Roland said, and set his notebook in his lap.
They continued their meal mostly in silence. Tsubasa ended up asking for seconds, and then thirds on soup, and ate nearly half of the salad single-handedly. The rest of them were content with single portions.
When they were finished, Roland offered to clean up, and before Muirrach could refuse him, Tsubasa leapt to his assistance. Together, they took the tray full of dishes to the kitchen.
“This is a lovely home,” Tsubasa said, happily scrubbing at a bowl with a soapy sponge. “You lived here for a while?”
“As a child,” Roland said. “It was only for a few years, but I’m surprised at how little it’s changed.” Tsubasa rinsed the bowl she was on and handed it to Roland, who dried it and put it in its proper place.
“But you never met Muirrach?” Tsubasa asked.
“He and Eilidh were wed a few years after I left with my Teacher,” Roland said. “And I never actually returned here. I spent almost fifteen years traveling, training, studying, and then beginning on the Path of the Eight. And that was all mixed in with time spent in Albia, attending the Academy Canticum Crystallus and studying to work at the Tower.”
“You’ve lived a very exciting life,” Tsubasa said. As Roland reached to take the next dish from her, Tsubasa leaned in close, lowering her voice to a whisper, masked to anyone outside the room by the steady sound of running water. “Eilidh isn’t away on a trip. She did leave of her own volition, she’s alive, I don’t suspect foul play or anything, Muirrach is a good man. But I’m starting to think ‘gone for a long time’ might actually mean ‘never coming back’.”
Roland’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?” he asked. Tsubasa nodded. “Why are you telling me this so secretively?”
“Because I want to preserve his feelings,” Tsubasa said. She met Roland’s gaze, her eyes full of sympathy. “Let’s just… try not to pry into his wife. He’s clearly torn up about whatever happened or is happening. He was able to help you as much as you’d hoped Eilidh would, right?” Roland nodded. “Then that should be enough. If he wants to tell what’s going on with her, then he can tell us on his own terms. Maybe we can help him, if he’s willing to let us in. But if we initiate, he’s just going to shut us out.” Tsubasa held his gaze, and after a moment, Roland nodded.
For all her exuberance and curiosity, she’s quite sensitive. But although I agree with her choices… this only makes me worry about Eilidh more. If she left of her own volition… why? Where did she go, and why wouldn’t she come back?
And why… why does Muirrach stay if she isn’t coming back?
As he dried and put away dishes, he thought over his correspondence with Eilidh. He’d stopped responding to her less than a year after his Teacher had died. But she had continued to write to him for…
Four years. The last letter I received from her was two years ago. She sounded the same as always, and invited me to visit her here, saying that her home would always be open to me.
Two years… what happened in those two years? Eilidh… where have you gone? And why?
“Thank you again for the wonderful meal,” Roland said when they’d finished cleaning and returned to the family room. “And for the guidance. I believe I am quite ready to return to Shureen’s Canon, and do things right this time.”
“That’s good,” Muirrach said, standing. “And I’m glad you won’t be going alone. But, if there’s room in your party for one more… I’d like to accompany you.”
Roland stared. “You… you would?” he asked.
Muirrach’s eyes narrowed slightly and he looked away. “Would that be a problem?” he asked.
“No!” Roland said quickly. “I’m sorry, no, I was just surprised. That would be wonderful! If you’re all right with it, we’d be glad to have you.”
“Absolutely,” Tsubasa said, beaming.
“Good,” Muirrach said. He nodded once, then turned away. “I… well, I need to get some things together. I wasn’t exactly planning on a trip, so… well. Thank you. Give me a few minutes. If you want to wait outside, that’s all right, too.”
“It’s a lovely day to be outside,” Erika said. “Shall we?”
“We shall!” Tsubasa declared.
Outside they went, gathering on the porch. There was a pleasant breeze in the air, carrying with it the fragrance of flowers and a song. There was always a song on the air in Wonderia.
“And four becomes five,” Tsubasa said. “How exciting!”
“Should we really continue to expand our group?” Enrique asked, holding his sister’s hand. “He seems trustworthy enough. But I don’t want to get into the habit of impromptu invitations.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Roland said, smiling. “His help will be invaluable in the Canons to come. I’m sure his presence will speed our journey along considerably.”
“If you take another step on that journey, that is!” yelled a voice — a malicious, slightly muffled voice, muffled as if it came from behind…
A mask. Three Masks were approaching them, gauntlets raised, primed to fire.
Tsubasa leapt from the porch with astonishing speed and strength, launching herself over twenty yards in a single bound. Roland stepped in front of the twins, softly humming the priming melody for Viatos’ song.
Tsubasa felled the three Masks with a single spinning kick, strong and dependable as always. Roland cast about, looking for any other Masks approaching from the woods to the left or the right. No sign, not yet, but…
Surely they won’t come after us with just three? Now that they know how the twins are protected, they won’t hold back anymore.
So where…?
Suddenly there was the crackling, humming sound of a gauntlet’s crystal being primed right behind him, and a heat against his ear, and a cry of alarm from Erika and Enrique, all at the same time.
“Can’t protect against what you can’t see, can you, Tuning Assistant?” asked a voice behind him. A young woman’s voice, oddly familiar.
The woman with the eagle mask!
“Let them go!” Tsubasa shouted, but before she could leap to the porch, she was suddenly whirling, blocking a barrage of superheated bolts of energy. At least a dozen Masks, all concealed in the woods, were opening fire on her. She blocked their bolts with swift precision, but they kept firing. Even if they wouldn’t keep her pinned down forever, they didn’t need to. They just needed to hold for long enough.
“Just let us go easy, Tuning Assistant,” Eagle Mask said. Unlike her followers, there wasn’t contempt or malice in her voice. She spoke clearly, with authority and confidence, as if her objective was just as noble as Roland’s. “This isn’t your fight. You don’t know the first thing about these children.”
“Enlighten me, then,” Roland said, not turning around, not daring to move with a primed gauntlet so close behind his head.
Eagle Mask chuckled softly. “No chance,” she said. “Just forget about all of this.”
“Rol—mmf!” Erika started to shout his name but then something cut her off. Cloth being tied around her mouth, or a hand placed over it, some method to try and keep her quiet. It wasn’t very effective. She continued to grunt and groan, struggling against her captors. Roland could hear Enrique as well, vocalizing and then a hard thwack!
“Ouch! Bratty kid, mind your manners!” said one of the malicious Masks thugs.
“They will remain unharmed,” Eagle Mask said sharply. “Don’t think some of your comrades’ more cavalier conduct has gone unnoticed. And don’t think any further acts of violence on them will go unpunished.”
“Roland, just hang in there!” Tsubasa said, managing to not just block, but deflect one of the gauntlet-bolts back at its source. There was a small explosion, and a scream of pain. But the barrage kept up, and Tsubasa remained on the defensive.
“Don’t try anything foolish, Tuning Assistant,” Eagle Mask said. “We’ll leave, and once we have the children safely in hand, I’ll call off the others. As long as the Dawn Rider holds out long enough, she’ll live, too.”
Roland stood there, mind racing, a soft heat on his arm from Viatos’ song being primed, waiting for her powers to be used. But what could he do? With a primed gauntlet so close to his head, he couldn’t trust that he was faster than his foe. She could doubtless fire faster than he could knock her aim off-target, and he wouldn’t be much use to anyone with a burning hole in his brain.
Must I continue to be so helpless? I saved them in the café, but the second time I was only able to do anything thanks to Tsubasa’s timely intervention.
I need to be better prepared. I need to stop being taken off-guard. And if I’m ever going to do better in the future, then I can’t just let the twins be taken here!
“As I said,” Eagle Mask said firmly, and the crystal in her gauntlet whined a little louder, its heat building. She must have noticed a tiny movement, a slight shift in Roland’s weight as he considered his options.
I… can’t do anything… can I?
“And now to finish!” Tsubasa cried triumphantly as she batted back two more bolts to their sources. But Eagle Mask whistled, and now a dozen more Masks were adding their blasts to the barrage, pinning Tsubasa down once more. Roland was astonished at how well she blocked and dodged the myriad bolts coming her way. Tsubasa truly was exceptional.
But she couldn’t do everything. And right now, she had no avenue by which to save the twins.
“Farewell, Tuning Assistant,” Eagle Mask said. “Value your life. Focus on your quest to become a Summoner, and forget about us. Don’t try to find us, don’t try to save them.”
Her footsteps creaked on the floorboards of the porch. It was now or never, but Roland caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye — and of the gauntlet she had trained on him.
He didn’t have a chance. Not in a fight like this, not this close.
But then a new sound mixed in with the din, making Eagle Mask pause. A warm, rich song, washing across the battlefield.
Muirrach’s voice.
“Where is he?” Eagle Mask snapped, and Roland caught a glimpse of several Masks running off around the house to scout things out.
A moment later, Roland felt the song in the air, more than just hearing it. There was a hum all around him, a vibration that ran down his body. The song was testing him, and then marked him — he felt it touch his heart, and then leave.
This song wasn’t for him. Or Tsubasa, or the twins.
It was for the Masks.
A cry went up from the woods, and a moment later, twenty-one Masks came flying up out of the trees. Suspended in midair by the song, they shook, struggling to no avail. Their gauntlets were ripped off, and then crushed, their crystals falling unharmed to the earth.
It wasn’t just the Masks in the woods who were swept up by the song, though. The four Masks who had been with Eagle Mask — including the two who held the twins — were suddenly swept up, too, their gauntlets destroyed. The twins ran back to Roland.
Eagle Mask reached for them, but then she cried out in alarm, and then grasped at the posts of the porch as the song threatened to sweep her up. She started singing, her own counter-resonance, and it helped her — somewhat. She had to rip her gauntlet off of her hand and watch helplessly as it was carried away and shattered, freeing the crystal.
“This isn’t over,” she said. And then she ran, off into the woods, vanishing from sight.
Twenty-five Masks were all hurled suddenly back over the cottage, plummeting over the high cliffs behind. The song echoed in the air for a moment, and then went silent.
There were footsteps on the roof. Slow, steady, they walked on down over the porch, and then Muirrach leapt to the ground, landing lightly. A pack was slung crosswise over his torso, cinched over his left shoulder. “Is everyone all right?” he asked.
“Thanks to you,” Erika said, throwing away the cloth that had been hastily tied over her mouth. She raced to Muirrach and bowed low. “You saved us!”
“Thank you,” Enrique said, somewhat bitterly, bowing as well. Roland could tell where that bitterness came from — not directed towards Muirrach, but towards himself, for being unable to protect his sister.
How easily we both carry guilt.
“I’m so sorry!” Tsubasa said, rushing over to them. “I leapt right into their kill-box. I should have stayed close to you, focused on defense. I didn’t realize they had marksmen in the woods.” She let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping. “My Teacher would be so disappointed.”
“I wasn’t much help, either,” Roland said. But his voice came out slowly, quiet. He gazed at Muirrach, and Muirrach caught the look in his eyes. “That song… a continuous melodic arte?”
“That’s right,” Muirrach said, nodding once.
“But that’s…” Roland started, gaping. “I mean, theoretically it’s possible, but to construct and sustain such an arte through song for as long as you did, and as targeted as you did… I’ve never heard of that being done before!”
“Perhaps it hasn’t,” Muirrach said. “We all have our talents, Roland. Don’t be so amazed by mine that you lose sight of your own.” He looked around, scanning their surroundings. “We’re safe for now. But we should make ourselves scarce. And you should tell me about your assailants. That wasn’t the first time they came after you, is it?”
Erika shook her head. “And it won’t be the last,” she said. “We evaded them for so long. All of a sudden, they’ve gotten very good at tracking us. Thank goodness for the valiant protectors we’ve stumbled upon. Truly, thank you all.” She bowed to each of them in turn, Muirrach, then Tsubasa, then Roland. Enrique followed suit.
And then they took Muirrach’s advice, and the five started off on their journey, leaving the cottage of Eilidh and Muirrach, the cottage that had been the closest thing Roland had ever had to a childhood home, far behind. Shureen’s Canon was waiting. Roland’s Path of the Eight was far from over. And they’d added another to their number, a new companion on their quest.
Their journey to Elysia was just beginning.