Passing through the entrance to Shureen’s Canon, the light and serenity of the area outside was replaced with deep darkness and an eerie, unsettling silence.
“Roland?” asked Erika, her voice quavering slightly.
“It’s all right,” Roland said, grateful that his voice remained steady. “I’m right here. Everyone gather close.”
One by one, Roland confirmed the presence of his companions. “This first stage is the most frightening,” he said. “Thankfully, I’ve been through it before. That should help. But we have to dive, deeper than it feels possible, through complete darkness. Only when we have reached the bottom will we find light again.”
“There’s no guiding light to dive towards?” Erika asked.
“No,” Roland said. “It will be disorientating, I won’t deny that. But do not fear that you’ll run out of air, or be crushed by the pressure. Just when it seems you can’t hold on any longer, you’ll find the bottom.”
“That’s… still frightening,” Erika said.
“If anyone wishes to remain behind, that would be perfectly understandable,” Roland said. Despite knowing that there was no light here, he still found himself trying to peer through the blackness, to make out even the smallest detail. It was never pleasant being unable to see. “No one will blame you.”
“Enrique, we get that you’re not so fond of —” Tsubasa started.
“We’re not leaving,” Enrique said firmly. “We’ll be all right. We’re all going together, aren’t we? So there’s nothing to fear.”
Roland smiled. “Right, then,” he said. “Everyone hold on tight.”
“I’ll keep you young ones safe,” Muirrach said, and Roland felt him shift, wrapping his one arm around the twins. “It can get terribly cold in the depths.”
“Oh, you’re so warm,” Erika said, laughing softly. “Thank you.”
“All set, Roland?” Tsubasa asked, taking hold of his arm.
Roland took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Everyone, take a few slow, steady breaths,” he said. “When I say so, you’ll take three deep breaths, the deepest breaths you possibly can, and hold them in.” He started a rhythm, leading the way just as his Teacher had taught him six years ago. And despite his weak cardiorespiratory system, he’d always had a surprising lung capacity when it came to simply holding his breath. Running and other exertions on land were a struggle for him. But those limitations had always been so much more distant when he was in the water. He’d spent much of his childhood swimming and diving, and had always enjoyed being in and around the water. Even after his failure here six years ago, his love of the water hadn’t left him.
“Now, three breaths, with me,” Roland said. He counted each one out, sucking in deep breaths and hearing the others do the same. As full of precious oxygen as he possibly could be, he stepped, not forward or backward…
But down.
All of a sudden, there was no floor. He and his companions stepped down into water. Once they were submerged, Roland flipped upside down, taking the others with him, and pressed his feet against a solid ceiling.
There was no going back now. The return path was sealed, until he met with Shureen.
Despite his love of the water, despite his preparation for this moment, he still felt a flutter of panic in his heart. Being suddenly closed in, with nothing but darkness all around, completely submerged in water, with only the deep breaths he’d taken to keep him alive, and no clear indication of a safe destination…
But Roland didn’t need to be controlled by that panic. He kicked off of the ceiling with one smooth, strong motion, and then he was diving deep, deeper, down into the blackness. He felt Muirrach tighten his grip on the twins. What fear must they be facing now? It might have been more responsible to leave them behind, but —
No. They chose to follow this path. And they’re safe. It’s frightening, but they’re safe.
Even knowing the truth of this first trial, Roland had to remind himself of that.
Down, down, down he went, with no light in sight. He kicked his legs lightly, conserving his energy, letting gravity assist him. The seconds ticked by, all sound muddled, muffled, distorted by the water. The depths grew colder, and Roland could feel a slight pressure in his head, right behind his eyes. Now he noticed, as Erika had said — Muirrach was warm.
Like his Teacher had been.
It only got colder with every passing moment, as they dove deeper into the darkness. Roland found his breath starting to wane, and the building pressure only made it harder to hold it in. He felt his pulse pounding in his head. And he felt the shaking and struggling of the twins, and felt for them deeply. They were so young, so small, so new to Wonderia, and after the wonderful sights of Shureen’s Cove, to subject them to this?
He shifted his arm, just slightly, so he could give one of the twins a gentle touch. He didn’t know which one, but he hoped it was some comfort.
He kept scanning ahead of them, down, deep, for the light that would signal the end of this trial. But it was too soon. Even as his lungs started to burn, as his chest started to ache, as his ears started ringing…
He still had breath. It was too soon to bring this trial to an end.
He felt everyone shift closer to Muirrach. His warmth was a comfort as the cold intensified. Roland kicked his legs faster, fighting to keep his body moving as the frigid temperatures threatened to shut him down. His ears ached, from cold and pressure both. The struggle was growing, and it was getting hard to think, hard to keep his mind straight.
Tsubasa kicked him. Hard. He flinched, almost gasped, losing precious breath, and then realized — he’d stopped swimming, stopped pushing them forward.
Don’t stop, Roland!
He kicked his legs once more, as fast as he could, holding everyone a little bit tighter. His eyes ached, and burned, and he felt like they might pop out of his head, the pressure was crushing in on him, and pushing out from within him, and it was so cold, and he was nearly out of breath, and then…
He gasped. His last waning breath escaped him, and water threatened to fill the void. He clamped his mouth shut, but there was nothing left to stand against the depths, and it was a desperate effort of will that fought against taking it in, that forced nonexistent breath out of his nose, that resisted the panic creeping in on him. They were all shuddering, shaking, struggling, it was too much, too far, too deep, too dark, too cold…
But there was light. The tiniest light, just there. Roland fought to kick towards it, kept his eyes on it, but…
He was drowning. Had he failed? Had he lost it all, led them all to their doom? He coughed and gagged, struggled to keep his legs moving, to keep pushing ahead in a straight line, and…
He tumbled out onto a stone floor. Wheezing, gasping, coughing up water and taking in precious oxygen, he shuddered and shook from the cold, from the lingering panic still cloaking him like a shroud. All around him was sound, the others gasping, coughing, crying.
Roland finally sat, wiping sopping hair out of his eyes, and looked at the others. “Is…” he started, teeth chattering, “is everyone all right?”
“That would be a great overstatement,” Muirrach said, holding the twins close to him. “But… We are all still alive.”
“We made it!” Tsubasa cheered, but even that lacked her usual enthusiasm. She stood, shivering, teeth chattering, hugging herself tightly. She smiled, but there was a flicker of fear in her eyes as she looked at Roland. “You weren’t joking about us reaching the end only right when we’re about to f-f-fail. Wow.”
“I’m sorry,” Roland said.
“It’s q-q-quite all right,” Erika said, shivering, hugging herself and leaning very snugly against both Enrique and Muirrach. “We made it, d-didn’t we?” She looked at her brother, who was staring at the floor, eyes wide, saying nothing. “Enrique?”
“D-do we…” Enrique started, “have to brave that again on t-the return?”
Roland shook his head. “No,” he said. “We need not face that trial again. I can promise you that.” He stood shakily, and then gasped as Tsubasa suddenly hugged him tightly.
“You nearly went into shock, there,” she said. “Let’s get you warm before we do anything else.”
“T-thanks,” Roland said. For all Tsubasa’s shivering and shuddering, she was surprisingly warm, and that welcome warmth spread to him, dispelling the cold.
“So now we… do… what?” Erika asked. She trailed off slowly as she stood up, taking in their new surroundings.
They were already in the second trial.
The white stone chamber they’d landed in was a perfect circle, about thirty feet in diameter. Spaced evenly around the perimeter were twelve small, gentle waterfalls, shimmering with strange light. Behind each was some kind of tablet, inscription, or image, but all of them were distorted by the waters that veiled them.
“The first trial,” Roland said, pulling away from Tsubasa, “was about the most frightening aspects of water. Water can steal away light, heat, breath. It can crush and disorient and terrify us, if we let it. This second trial is about another aspect of water — its ability to distort our visual senses to hide the true nature of what lies within.”
“So you have to figure out some kind of puzzle?” Tsubasa asked.
“I have to discern which of these watery veils disguises the door to Shureen’s Cloister, where she resides,” Roland said, turning in a slow circle, looking at each waterfall in turn. “And things have been changed since my last visit.”
“So you can’t just use last time’s answer,” Tsubasa said. She smiled. “All right, then. Let’s puzzle this out!”
“How do you figure out which path is correct?” Enrique asked. He still looked quite rattled, but he was recovering. “What are we looking for?”
“Her crest,” Roland said. “But everything will look like her crest at first glance. And the way to solve this riddle…” Roland pulled out a tuning fork and a symphonic recorder, a pocket-notebook-sized device powered by a small symphonic crystal, with a screen on it for recording frequencies and numerical measurements, and controls for performing various calculations. He smiled, striding towards the nearest veil. “… is with mathematics.”
“Math?” Erika asked, cocking her head to the side. “How does math —”
“Oh!” Tsubasa cried excitedly, her whole face lighting up. “Bordacello’s Theorem!”
“Precisely,” Roland said. “We go to each veil, measure frequency and depth, and use Bordacello’s Theorem to determine the distortion factor. From there, all we have to do is redraw what we see.”
Muirrach stared for a moment, then chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Never heard of a Summoner solving a Canon trial using maths,” he said.
“Can I help?” Tsubasa asked. She reached into a couple of her belt pouches, pulling out a tuning fork and symphonic recorder of her own. Though, holding hers up beside Roland’s, her eyes went wide. “You have the GSR-3X12! But that’s only been out for a few months!”
“Perks of the job,” Roland said with a chuckle.
“Ah, I see,” Tsubasa said, nodding sagely. “Tuning assistants would get extensive use out of symphonic recorders. You’d need the best of the best. But I’m so jealous! I feel so underpowered all of a sudden.” She sighed, eyeing her own slightly smaller, clearly well-used symphonic recorder.
“The TSR-Y16 is a robust device,” Roland said. “You aren’t missing any features. All I have over yours is a slightly larger, clearer screen, and perhaps a faster processing speed, though not by enough to matter.”
“True enough!” Tsubasa said. “All right, so you go clockwise, and I’ll go counter?”
“Works for me,” Roland said. “I’ll mark mine with odd numbers.”
“And I’ll mark mine with even!” Tsubasa said.
Roland started at the veil he’d approached, while Tsubasa went past him to start on the one to his left. While they started to work, Erika came to watch Tsubasa while Enrique watched Roland. Taking readings was the simplest part of the process. At each veil, all Roland or Tsubasa needed to do was insert their tuning fork into the flow of water, and the symphonic recorder did the rest. The way the tuning fork and the water interacted resulted in two separate frequencies, one of which measured the speed of the water, and the other measuring the depth.
“The symphonic recorder works through translating musical signals into numerical figures,” Roland said as Enrique asked questions. “That gives us hard data that is easy to work with for complex calculations.”
“So the recorder doesn’t perform the calculations for you?” Enrique asked.
“It can do basic arithmetic, but complex equations are far beyond it,” Roland said. “It still helps speed the process along greatly.”
“And then you plug in your findings to a theorem, and get a distortion factor,” Enrique said. They moved to the next veil, and Enrique peered at the image beyond the water. “It’s like some sort of… crown. But the true image is much different?”
“Each veil will distort its image differently,” Roland said, inserting his tuning fork into the waterfall, being mindful of how he held it so as not to dampen or distort its resonance. “My first time attempting this, one of the images was exactly as it appeared, just higher than it should have been. Others were wildly transformed, completely unrecognizable from what my eyes told me they were.” The symphonic recorder let out a soft beep, and Roland removed the tuning fork, double-checking the readouts before moving on. “That’s where Bordacello’s Theorem comes in. Donatello Bordacello was a mathematical genius from long before our time. He discovered the way that water can distort images, and worked out a way to mathematically compute the ‘distortion factor’ — his wife, Wilhelmina Bordacello, an accomplished mathematician in her own right, coined the term — using musical measurements to get readings on speed and depth that conventional devices couldn’t achieve.”
“So music is the key,” Enrique said.
“Music is the lifeblood of the world,” Roland said.
“That’s right!” Tsubasa said from across the chamber. “It’s no mistake that the Hymn of Discord was at least part of what caused the calamity that Fractured the world and separated us from Elysia. If anything could break the world the way it’s been broken, it must have been a song of great and terrible evil.”
Roland completed another set of measurements and moved on to the next veil, its image looking through the running water like a cerulean sun beaming down on a vast blue desert. What was it really, behind the water’s distortion?
One by one, he and Tsubasa completed their measurements, labeling the veils along the way, and then came together to go over their findings. They each pulled out notebooks and pencils — kept dry thanks to waterproof pouches and bags — and started writing down their measurements into the first parts of Bordacello’s Theorem.
“That’s a… complex equation,” Erika asked, looking rather daunted by its length.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Tsubasa said cheerfully. “I can show you how to work it out once we’re done here.”
Roland smiled. “It’s really quite ingenious in its simplicity,” he said, “once you understand it.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Erika said sheepishly, backing away.
“You said you have to redraw the images based on the Theorem’s results,” Enrique said. “But how are you going to be accurate enough —”
Roland and Tsubasa both opened their notebooks to the halfway point, where traditional lined paper switched to graph paper. They grinned at each other. “Always come prepared,” Tsubasa said.
“So it’s a graphing equation,” Enrique said, nodding thoughtfully.
Once they’d put all of their data into the Theorem, labeling each equation to its proper veil, they then set about to drawing the images as they appeared through the water. This was a painstaking process, and they compared each other’s results as they went, collaborating to ensure they weren’t making any mistakes.
“Now that we’ve done that,” Tsubasa said, she and Roland sitting down on the floor in the center of the chamber, “it’s all about following the formula to know where to move each square.”
“You’re… moving and redrawing each square… individually?” Erika asked. She looked like her head was spinning.
“Just another day’s work in the life of a scientist!” Tsubasa said. Roland nearly matched her cheer — he loved this side of exploration and scientific discovery, and mathematics had always been his forte. There was something calming, peaceful, relaxing about having all the answers in front of him, and simply needing to follow what an equation told him to do. Even then, it wasn’t mindless — he’d had to figure out the process to gather the data, and puzzle out which equations to use, and had to make sure he put in the data properly. Even then, if he didn’t have a steady hand and an artistic eye, he couldn’t be confident in his results. Endless hours of practice had helped hone his skills to make this endeavor an easy one.
And throughout the entire process, Roland and Tsubasa checked with each other, comparing results and asking questions when they wanted a second opinion of how they were reading their formulas. Bordacello’s Theorem wasn’t a simple “plug in data and get one single answer” formula, or it wouldn’t be suited to such a complex task as this.
“But here, it’s a plus-or-minus twenty,” Tsubasa said, pointing out a square on her grid. “Duplicate it?”
“Divide first,” Roland said, pointing out a section in her formula. “Then duplicate the remainder.” A little later, he had a question of his own. “Fractional answers get applied to the exponent, don’t they?”
“Right — oh, wait, you have a factor of five there, see? You have to round it up, then it gets subtracted from the limit.”
“Oh, that’s why it looks wrong! Thank you.”
And back and forth they went, while Enrique watched. Erika took her leave of these discussions quite early, actually, choosing to read through her journal of wishes rather then get swept up in the heady advanced mathematics. Muirrach, meanwhile, found his own spot to sit on the floor and sing softly to himself, a melody that Roland didn’t catch, he was so absorbed in his work.
One by one, Roland and Tsubasa redrew each of the images, the distortion factor illuminating the truth hidden past what their eyes could see.
“And here we are!” Tsubasa said, leaping to her feet, Roland standing a moment later. She beamed at him. “It’s only appropriate that it was one of yours, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” Roland said. He held up the revealed drawing of the image behind veil number seven: Shureen’s wave-like crest.
“Leave it to math to show us the truth,” Tsubasa said.
“I’m not convinced that’s the lesson this trial is meant to teach,” Muirrach said, standing and joining them.
“I think it’s perfect,” Roland said. “It wasn’t a simple or brainless process. Yes, we have Bordacello’s Theorem, and symphonic recorders, but it was still down to us to apply those tools properly. Rather than trust only our visual perception, we had to trust the numbers, even when it wasn’t clear what pictures they were making. I think that’s exactly what this trial is challenging us to do — to move beyond full faith in our own perception.”
“Hmm,” was Muirrach’s noncommittal reply, his eyes and tone suggesting there remained a degree of skepticism in him.
“So how do we progress to the Cloister?” Erika asked, approaching veil number seven. The image through the water looked nothing at all like Shureen’s crest, but more like some kind of cartoon of a panda being sucked into a whirlpool. At least, that’s what Roland saw.
“We just walk through the veil,” Roland said. He stopped right in front of the waters, staring into them. Hesitation, the strange feeling of anxiety and dread intermingling with something else, something he couldn’t define, flooded his heart once more.
It’s time.
“Here we go,” Roland said. He stepped through the veil, letting the waters wash over him. The stone wall behind it, where the image of Shureen’s crest was, became a doorway, offering entrance into the innermost sanctum of Shureen’s Canon.
For the first time in six years, Roland set foot in Shureen’s Cloister. But immediately, something felt different. Wrong. He spun around, eyes wide —
The door was closed. There was no door at all.
He was here, in the Cloister, alone. His companions were left behind, unable to follow.
No, this is… this isn’t how it went last time. Am I…?
There was a splash, and Roland whirled back around. To see the Cloister properly, really take it in. He stood upon a circular stone dais surrounded by water. There was even water upon the dais, about an inch deep, and with even the slightest movement ripples went out from him.
Deeper waters surrounded the dais, and rose up to form the walls of the Cloister, and the ceiling, too, walls and ceiling entirely of water, with no sign of rock or other building material.
There was another splash, and Roland turned, his heart racing. Nothing was like last time, nothing at all, and where was Shureen? What was happening this time?
Drip…
A single drop of water, falling into a still pool.
Roland stood, transfixed. All around him, the walls and ceiling, there had been ripples, currents, movement. Now, all of a sudden, all was still. Save for that single drop, and the ripples flowing gently out from where it had touched.
From serene, blue waters rose a serene, blue being. Her skin was shimmering azure, from the top of her head to the tip of her tail. Nearly ten feet long, she rose completely out of the water, floating in midair, coiling her fishlike tail beneath her vaguely humanoid body. She had two arms, a slender torso, a head with human-like eyes, nose, mouth, and shimmering azure hair that drifted back and forth like it was submerged in a gentle, invisible current. In place of ears were fin-like extensions around small earholes, like the inside of a seashell. Her fingers were long and slender, ending in mirrored nails that reflected the world with startling clarity.
She gazed upon Roland, and he gazed up at her, their eyes locked, and all was still. Roland stood in awe, an awe so unlike what he’d felt when he’d stood before the gentle, friendly Kirin, or the playful, spunky Viatos. They were no less a Fantasian than Shureen, and yet there was something striking, mysterious, otherworldly about the Fantasian of water.
“Shureen,” Roland said — or tried to say. But his voice was distorted, the sounds coming out alien and unrecognizable. All of a sudden he felt it, he knew, he was in water, submerged in it from head to toe, floating, like he’d never been on solid ground at all.
Shureen watched him, but didn’t approach. Was she waiting? Waiting for him to…
“Please, I —” Roland started, but again, the words came out all wrong. And then Shureen opened her mouth, and sang, and…
I don’t… understand you.
Fear gripped Roland’s heart, and an instant later, he fought back against himself.
Brave heart, Roland.
Your studies were valuable. You learned so much about how her song works, how the water changes our words. But this…
This isn’t the place for your mind to speak.
It’s the place for your heart.
Roland took in a deep breath, and it was strange, filling him with breath even as it felt like water, like water without wetness, without volume, without danger, also entered his lungs. It didn’t harm him.
And Roland’s eyes widened.
This isn’t a place to bring people to harm. It’s a place of safety. Of serenity.
There is no need to fear. Not here.
Roland turned around, once again seeing the absence of a door, an impervious barrier between him and his companions.
And he saw it with new eyes.
Turning back to Shureen, he opened his mouth, and just sang. No words, just melody. But as he sang, in his heart, he reached out to Shureen.
I understand.
You were inviting me in this time, despite what happened six years ago.
And as soon as I entered your Cloister, you prevented all others from coming in with me.
Everything you’ve done… all that you’re trying to do today…
You don’t want to bring anyone to harm. Not again. Just like me, you regret all that happened in our last meeting.
Roland’s melody was changed in the water. It wasn’t what he expected, not at all what he intended to sing. But it wasn’t a warping, twisting, dissonant transformation. It was an elevation. His song was more beautiful, resonant, and serene than he could have accomplished outside of this place.
Then Shureen opened her mouth, and started to sing in response, and he felt the faintest brushes of her heart, a tentative connection, careful, reserved.
This is what you always needed from me. How it was always supposed to be. You were trying to teach me, with your trials, but I…
I didn’t see.
The danger and fear that water can bring…
The mystery to challenge one’s perception…
You ensured that I didn’t drown in the first trial. You created a puzzle that was possible to solve in the second trial. For all the mystery, all the danger, you were singing your song, every moment of the way. If only I hadn’t been too deaf to hear it.
“Do not be afraid.”
For the first time, Roland heard more than Shureen’s melody. He heard the words of her heart, penetrating to his own, and his eyes stung with sudden tears.
Still singing, Roland swam just a little bit closer to Shureen. He saw a hesitation in her, and when she leaned back just slightly, he wondered if he’d done the wrong thing. But then he felt the sadness in Shureen’s heart, and a profound sense of guilt.
“I’m so sorry.”
A moment later, the water below them rippled, forming into a perfectly serene glassy mirror.
Water can obstruct and confuse our perception. But it can also be the most pure, perfect mirror of all, reflecting our true selves.
And in that mirror, Roland saw…
The past.
He saw himself, and Alystair, swimming before Shureen. But he couldn’t see Shureen. Because he was seeing…
Through her eyes.
Roland looked up at Shureen, but she had her sorrowful eyes fixed on the mirrored window into the past. So Roland looked back down, his heart seizing with anguish and guilt. He watched, as the Roland of the past heard Shureen’s opening song, and the fear and disorientation he still felt from the trials spilled over into confusion. He couldn’t understand Shureen’s song. His heart was closed to her. And as he recoiled in fear…
Roland felt it. He felt Shureen’s heart, felt how she reached out, completely open, and found only fear — terrible, paralyzing fear. That fear became her own, and she recoiled, panic seizing her. Roland couldn’t understand her, was so disorientated that that disorientation…
Spilled over into Shureen. The Summoner she’d been expecting and hoping to meet, she now only saw as an intruder, someone who had broken in and now… what would he want with her? What did he plan to do to her? She had to defend herself, to defend her home, to defend the sanctity of this place and her role as a Greater Fantasian!
She lashed out, and the intruder’s companion leapt in the way. They both fled, the one grievously wounded, the other scared for his life. Shureen let them run. She’d displayed her power, defended herself and her Cloister…
And then they were gone. Desperately fleeing up, through the dark waters, and out through the Canon’s opening, and…
Shureen suddenly gasped. With the intruders’ departure, the fear left her as suddenly as it had come. And all of a sudden, she saw everything that had happened through clearer eyes. That fear…
The Summoner had been frightened of her! And she had nearly killed him!
She called out to him, sang her desperate song. But he was too far from her now to hear her voice. With his departure, the fullness of Shureen’s mistake overwhelmed her. And Roland felt her sorrow from six years ago as acutely as it was his own, today, a grief and sorrow that superseded all of the pain he had carried himself since that day.
Roland looked up at Shureen, and she was gazing back at him now. The mirror to the past was gone. Here, it was just them, just the present, but so heavily weighed down by the weight of the past.
Together they sang, and their hearts touched, and at the very same moment, both of them said the same thing, and understood it in the other:
“How I’ve longed to set this right.”
For six years, they had both carried the same guilt, the same sorrow, alone. Now, together, they saw each other like a mirror. And it wasn’t the first time. They both shared the same realization…
It’s just like last time. If only we’d known it then.
My fear became yours. Your fear became mine.
But now…
Now we can set this right.
Together, they sang, and danced around each other in the water, water that washed away the past, a perfect accompaniment to the song they shared.
A song of forgiveness.
Roland had brought fear into this sacred place, and that had led to such tragedy. Shureen had taken that fear and turned it back on him, leading to guilt and loneliness. Roland had fled, and stayed away for six years, leaving her sorrowed and broken-hearted at what she had done to her Summoner.
But all of that was gone, now. Hearts intertwined, songs joined together, and the ache of six years was washed away.
On Roland’s right arm, a new tattoo joined the ones for Kirin and Viatos. Wrapping around his upper arm, it was an azure tattoo of swirling water, and in their midst, Shureen.
Dancing.
For time unknown, Roland remained in the Cloister, basking in this beautiful joining of hearts. Why had he not done this sooner? Why hadn’t he realized all he’d needed to know the first time?
I denied myself the most marvelous of joys, and I never even knew it.
Brave heart, Roland. Don’t let fear keep you away from these wonders ever again.
And he wished he could stay here, here with Shureen, forever. But she sang into his heart, a song of hope:
“I am with you now, wherever you go.”
There was a whole world waiting for Roland, more Fantasians to form Pacts with, twins to guide to Elysia, a wild, grand adventure still only just beginning. He couldn’t stay here.
But he needn’t fear that he’d lose anything in the leaving.