Face pale as snow, I knew. I knew she was ailing, yet she clouded her well-being with a broken facade.

"Mother, how are you faring today?" I inquired, clutching her hand resting atop the layers of blankets and pelts. It pained a great deal to be bedridden. She had always been overly enthusiastic, longed for social events with Peter's parents back when- when they were still alive.

I was grateful to call Peter a dear friend to our family. And while it wasn't anywhere near official, it felt as though Father and Mother took him under their wings. To an extend, alas. Whereas Father oft demanded top of the line services, he minded not when Peter made minor mistakes. He forgave him quite easily and regularly. After all, one can only do so much whilst in a permanent rush. I used to believe it was solely because both our parents used to hold essential designations within the island's hierarchy. Both sets of parents owing one to the other. Though, Mum oft persistently managed to prove me wrong. She cared for him like he were one of her own blood, flesh and bones.

Since I had entered Mother's private chamber, we had yet to lock eyes. It was an awkwardly graceful dance of shifting gazes, each consistently waltzing past one another.

She grasped my hand firmly. For the first time. "Ah, sweetheart, you need not worry for me. Peter and Mother Astrid, both, are taking great care of my wounds." Her voice was weaker like it typically was. I peaked up slightly, head tilted and eyes darting into their corners.

We locked gazes.

It was though I peered deep into a reflection of myself. A tad matured, naturally. Her eyes were almost a precise replica of mine, or, factually, the other way around. For a moment longer, Mother and I exchanged looks. Her hazel-touched blue eyes had been dulled. They outright refused to shine as brightly as they did last week.

Mother raised her arm, reaching out for my shoulder. Silently, she began stroking my hairs, lazily braiding a few strands between her fingers. In the past, Mother adored it when I wore my hair braided over my shoulders. It looked formal, really. Yet constrained. Ever so clearly, I remember my relentless protesting. Even once took a knife and cut half me hair short. Looked as though some invisible blade had stricken me down diagonally.

I subtly averted my sight. But Mother had always been attentive. She knew me through and through.

"What's bothering you, sweetie?" She sat up straight to adjust the pelts atop her blankets.

I told her off. "Let me do that for you, Mum." Tenderly, I pulled the hides down to the bed's foot end. It surprised me how long Mother managed to keep up with them. The keep's hallways, from the three towers, the kitchen and the outside grounds, all came off as searing hot. The island's summer period was, for as far as I knew, renowned for its high temperatures. Albeit it third only to the southern Mainland's luscious rainforests and the Ember Isles specked around Ark Island. At least, so I thought. I had never been the person to study too well during my classes. That island group may just as well be to the west of Devil's Tongue.

I let go of her hand, mine rubbing over a stained raccoon hide. The short hairs were prickling my palms, almost tickling. While it looked soft, even felt delicate; the structure was rigid. It felt like some tightly knit-together wool cap Father's parents used to make. They were a crafty bunch, and like parents - in this case - like son.

Mother narrowed her eyes, clicking her tongue. "Cynthia, darling," She moved her quivering hand, cupping it onto my cheek. "You know you can confide in me, alwa-"

Her eyes shot wide open. Mother had cut herself off, and her hands had started to shake. She drew a sharp breath as if pain overthrew her other sense and rose to distinction. Retracting her arm in horror, her face lost the final remaining traces of colour. "When-," started Mother, her speaking pace hastened, "When did you get that?"

I followed her fixed gaze.

Mother had noticed the sachet I brought along. It sat on the dresser near the standing mirror beneath the brass chandelier. The direct rays of sunlight, beaming in from the chamber's eastern tall windows, bounced off the object.

Remaining silent, I pondered over why Mother had phrased her query in such an odd manner. I sooner had believed she'd ask where it was gifted to me, how it was given, or simply; who. Mother looked dead-set on receiving her desired answer, but truly, a part of me already thought she was aware of what occurred. I suppose, as she frequently claimed, she actually had taps on everything.

"Sweetheart," her voice had lost its soothing nature. It was cold at the very core, just honeyed to the point it was mingled into an unclear mess. "Tell me. Now." She finished, folding her arms, resting them accidentally atop her sewed wounds. Mother convincingly shrugged it off, as if she was not bothered with the pain whatsoever.

I rose from her bedside, reaching out to grab the tiny bag. For its size, its weight was abnormal. Then again, Theos had given it. Hence there was no chance it was anywhere near normal, not after the spectacle he pulled off last night. Goodness, I am still shuddering at the sheer thought that someone, with just a few words, could lull another being into a slumbering state. My idea drifted off into the abyssal nothingness. "I received it last night."

Her head tilted, her demeanour changed to accommodate a sense of perplexion. Well taken off guard, Mother opted her words. "I was under the impression you remained within the castle walls," answered Mother, raising a brow. Her curled tendrils hung just above her shoulders; I had only just noticed a faint trace of crimson within the strands.

I had no interest in an interrogation of the sorts. Truly. After last night, waking up in my bedroom at the break of dawn, everything felt out of place. Father had ordered me to visit Mother. He wanted someone to stay by her side at all times. Especially after the island's healers confirmed the presence of a toxin in her blood. We all firmly believed it was the result of that damned bolt that took the poor medic's life.

Those bloody venom-coated tips arrowheads.

It was a miracle she was still alive. By the Phoenix's grace, bless Grandmother Astrid's wisdom. Had she not identified the source, our family would have been more torn apart than ever afore.

"I'm sorry, Mother, I-" I avoided eye contact, "I joined Adelaide and Captain Vhersio's fight. Waving around with your famed blade."

She took it well. Or, to some extend, feigned doing so. Instead of worrying over me, the state of her weapon, or the cruel events which occurred amid the darkness, her focus fully lied with the gifted object. "You did not open it, did you?"

I tossed the sachet beside her, turning away. I had repeatedly tried to uncover its content, albeit to no avail. At first, I tried to unbind the strap normally; it did not work. I attempted ripping the thing to shreds with my bare hands. Again, no success. I grew agitated. So much, in fact, I entered the armoury, placed the bag atop the War Table and struck it down with Father's two-handed broadsword. "I tried," I shrugged, and continued, "But clearly, I didn't even dent it."

She raised her head in an esteemed manner. "Did Adelaide gift you this?"

Of course not. All right, Adelaide surely was capable of conjuring Magick, possibly even enchanting items. But why would she leave this with me? And, actually a bigger question; how would she have gotten her hands on the object?

"No, Theos did," I answered with a certain gravity placed upon his name, hoping to draw out a specific response; the glance of familiarity.

While unsuccessful, it managed to lead to something quite different.

Her expression abruptly swayed into that of shock. Her voice reached a dangerous depth, one of condemnation. "That man is lethal, Cynthia." She grasped the bottom of my arm tightly, squeezing unintentionally as she immediately let go. Mother's control over her own muscles was at an all-time minimum. That venomous mixture dealt a substantial number on her.

I carefully assessed the situation. While, yes, he seemed like a high, occasional risk, last night, I also sensed this air of kindness lingering around him. "And you daresay Adelaide's . . . anger tantrum is not?" I hinted at Adelaide's power.

"What are you talking about?" Her gaze waltzed out the window.

She should not have said that.

I was done with the looming veil of secrecy.

I lashed with a verbal onslaught. "Cut the nonsense. I'm sick and tired of you, Father, Vhersio and everyone else sheltering me from reality. Adelaide saved my bloody life. Theos saved hers a tad later. And not to mention, Father, after he ensured you were safe and sound-- I didn't see him outside. I wouldn't be surprised if his cowardice got the better of him-"

"Enough." Mother tried to enforce her will of silence upon me, but I couldn't accept. Something inside me, finally, cracked under the pressure of the unbeknownst. Adelaide hadn't given me any answers and mysteriously vanished to some shrine I never knew of. Same went for Vhersio. As for Father, the Isle's High Council had summoned him. This was not the moment to give in to anyone's desire but mine; I sought answers and I was bloody well going to get them.

"Besides, who is this Theos character even? All I know is that he can shoot several god-rays from thin air and sink a boat across the Wharf. Or that he's capable of inducing sleep with two words alone. Yes, perhaps he is deadly, dangerous and powerful, but at the very least, he hasn't kept everything a secret from me. Your and Father's way of safeguarding me out of harm's way feels more damaging than protective."

I felt myself getting more emotional by the second.

"Cynthia, stop."

Again, I did not heed Mother's wishes. Ignoring them utterly, I proceeded my angry rant. "I'm not out of porcelain, Mother. I, like yourself, am meant to be broken. We have our frailties, yes, but there is a sense of preciousness in precisely that. I don't care whether I end up hurt. I will wear each and every scar like an individual battle trophy." I finished.

"Quiet!" Mother shrieked, having fully lost her graceful calm. "Where is your father?" She demanded to know, and, instead of denying her wishes like I had done moments earlier, I granted hers.

I paced towards the window, not ushering in a single word. My gaze swooped down from the high tower's window onto the valley to the east. Alongside Adelaide's seaside mansion. "The Council summoned him to answer for last night's mayhem." I refrained from averting my line of sight. It surprised me how far the scenery ahead displayed its beauties from up here. No wonder Mother had claimed this particular room after its construction years ago. Though, even at this incredible height, the Sacred Mountains towered over the castle in astronomical fashion.

Meanwhile, her mood swung back to its initial mantra; calm and reserved. With a sigh, she motioned me closer, whispering, "All right, I shall see to him in due time." Mother inhaled slowly, "And just to satisfy my curiosity, did you - or did you not fight alongside Theos?"

"Alongside him," I emphasised, "Would make for the century's largest overstatement. He wiped the floor with every undisciplined outlaw. Demolished and incinerated a pirate caravel in an instant- all by himself." I turned towards her, eyes meeting for a final time.

"I told you he was dangerous," muttered Mother under her breath, rolling her eyes.

I shook my head. Not particularly in disagreement; no, it would be far from a just reason. Theos was admittedly, incredibly dangerous to those who called his wrath upon themselves. But again, he was not an ill-mannered psychopath. "And I informed you, he saved Adelaide's life." I reminded Mother, then stepped over to the door. "Now if you will excuse me, I'll be off to find both him and Adelaide. I will not keep my gratitude unspoken."

I was about to leave; had my hand already curled around the door handle.

Mother laid back in bed, lying a hand atop her forehead. Surely, she wasn't flaring up again, was she? I wanted to check on her again, especially after the healers informed Father and me of her ailments during the early morning. "You'll be wandering about. Purposeless, really. Theos put you to sleep, didn't he?"

Frowningly, I got myself to answer, "Yes, he did."

She stared motionlessly at the ceiling. Beams of light reflected off the chandelier onto her face as the sun continued rising from afar. "Then you shall not encounter him. If that man so desires not to be found; no mortal soul will."

I disagreed with a whiff of confusion added to the blatant mix. "Father's men marked the docking area off-limits earlier today, Mother. Nobody can leave the island until the wounded have been accounted for- and the debris salvaged."

"Sweetheart, wake up. Theos, he is a being of extraordinary power. He has abilities most, amongst whom is Adelaide, would deem . . . unnatural. Whatever seems unthinkable to us; he is capable of doing." Her words were no simple opinion. Not at all, truthfully, they made one accurate statement.

And yet, it wasn't as though I was unaware. I had experienced Theos's divine powers first hand- witnessing their overwhelming destruction with my own eyes. Only a few hours ago, it dawned on me how the change of atmosphere back at the docks- when the air went cold- was his doing.

"What else do you know about him?" I inquired.

Mother ducked her head, "Not all that much. But if you are keenly intent on finding the old man, and expressing your thanks-" She rose from beneath the quilts, reaching out for a wooden cane. "Walk with me, Cynthia."

With each step came a grunt.

My mind was occupied solely with a dreadful sensation of worry. Every movement from her lower body, even though only one of her legs was injured, was limped. "You should rest, Mother." I laid a hand on her shoulder, watching her clutch onto her stomach's right side.

"No, no. I ought to do my duty as a parent. I should stand by your decision and grant you my supportive blessing, sweetie." She had a sudden change of mind. A beneficial one, at that.

"All right," I carefully tugged her into a tight embrace. While, naturally, we had our occasional differences, they were usually short-lived, and their bitter endings always sweetened by a tidal surge of love. "Thank you."

"Not a problem in the slightest." Mother hung her arm around my neck for aid, relying on the walking cane on her right to maintain her balance fully.

Under the presence of a smile, only a whisper made it out my throat, "Where are we headed?"

"Downstairs, we will part ways. On horseback, you'll make for the Elder's cottage beyond the Maple Grove. You remember, the renovated one near the south-west lighthouse. This token will ensure an audience with Grandmother Astrid." Mother opened the palm of my hand, pressing a small, silver coin into my clutches.

Truth be told, it was as if this token had been forged out of air.

"You could stay upstairs and continue resting, Mum."

"As much as I wish I could, I must prioritise this errand of sorts over recovery."

"Even while it endangers your own health?" So ringed my poor attempt to tell her off. Though, from the look on her face, one, I daresay, we shared, I knew her decision was made.

"Yes." She stopped speaking. And honestly, her answer did not come as anything short of expected. My parents, both, had always been suckers for performing their duties, as Chief of Defense and High Councillor. "For honour and reputation are two tools of tremendous value. Individually, each can sway the general consensus of the Council. Together; they may tip the scales of balance in a favourable way."

We made our way across the demesne slowly. Though, with every step, I peeked over to Mother, frightened to the bone, desperately hoping her stitches wouldn't tear loose. We wandered past the Small Chamber, in the keep's western wing.

Mother raised her hand, effectively halting the both of us. I saw her fingers wrap around the cane more forcefully. Voices originated from within the locked room. Must have been Father's discussion and formal apology for the bloodshed last night.

"Thank you for assisting me, my little angel. You should hurry though, daylights hours, while abundant, are all of great importance to finding Lord Theos in time."

She turned towards the door, much to my confusion. "Where are you going, Mother?"

"I'll have to settle your Father's dispute with my colleagues, sweetheart." She responded, flicking the top section of the walking cane open to reveal a secret compartment. I noticed the body of a key holstered inside.

Mum had her ways. Questionable methods, really. But one could not argue with the final results; they oft exceeded expectations. Knowing her, she'd simply dismiss the idea of building a tiny storage space within a walking stick.

She drew the key, what I could only assume to be some sort of skeleton key and plunged said metal piece into the keyhole. Without granting me a second to reply, she motioned me away. "Take my mare in the stables. She may be young and undisciplined, but she has the stamina of a hundred steeds."

I watched her unlock the door, once again; not awaiting my response. The room went dead quiet. Suppose it wasn't a regular occurrence to see Mother force her way into a private meeting. But then again, as High Councillor, she undeniably had her privileges in the form of high clearance.

Proceeding to the stables, through the Gateway of War, I entered the armoury. As if it were on pure instinct, I grabbed ahold of Mother's rapier yet again. It felt as if it was calling out to me, though, it might just as well have been my mind playing tricks on me. After all, during the last years, I had become a sucker for literature; especially those involving prophecies of gilded heroes.

Passing a handful of guards near the exit, I had entered the stables. Black and brown stallions all, except for Mother's mare. I approached, stroked her manes with care. It was a while since I had last been in the barns. I prepared her saddle, walking beyond the wooden gate; the mare's name, Rosemary, scratched into the pine wood.

With a brief sigh, I climbed onto Rosemary's back to mount her. My booths slid into the iron stirrups. I took a firm hold of the reins and took off slowly; through the stable's tall wooden frame, via the southern gate and down the drawbridge; ready for my audience with the Island Elder, Grandmother Astrid.