Francis put his arm around her as they walked and Aithne smiled and leaned into his warmth. Why had she taken so long to say yes? Being with him felt so right. The snow crunched under their boots, the sky a vast bruised purple fading into twilight over the sea, and the world felt simple in a way it had not felt in -- she could not remember how long. She let herself have it. She let herself be held.

 

His hand moved -- down her shoulder, across her ribs, settling on her hip with a thumb that traced small circles against the fabric of her tunic. She nestled into his touch. The pressure of his fingers, the weight of his arm, the solid certainty of him beside her -- it felt good. It felt…safe. She closed her eyes for half a step, just to feel it.

 

His hand strayed further. Down her hip, across the curve of her ass, palming her with a familiarity that bordered on presumption. She tensed; the move changed the timbre of the moment into something tinged with a sharp heat. Which wasn’t necessarily bad -- she had hoped things would move in that direction, after all. It just felt…more immediate, more present than she had anticipated. Still, she couldn’t deny the hunger that had begun to…

 

He squeezed, hard enough to hurt and she cried out and tried to step away from him, twist out of his grip, but he would not let go. Instead, he yanked her back. Her body collided with his while his other hand took possession of her breast.

 

"You never learn, do you?" The voice was not Francis'. It was deeper, more menacing, as familiar as her own thoughts. "You still need to be taught your place, I see."

 

Borkul shoved her forward, face-first into the muddy stone of the shallow cave. She hit the ground hard, her palms scraping, knees sparking with pain at the collision. He was behind her, heavy hands wrapped around her waist in a grip like iron; then he was inside her, his cock ramming into her ass in painful, methodical bursts. The chain from her collar was taut, anchored somewhere in the dark. She could feel every inch of him as he shoved, splitting her open, filling her with that familiar, unbearable length.

 

She screamed -- and the scream did not end, because the cave did not end, because she was still there, still pinned, still being pounded into the cold stone floor. Every grunting shove sent her a little closer to the edge of the cliff; toward the yawing endless chasm below.

 

The dragon landing in front of her, its wings blotting out the world. She yelped and threw her arms over her head as the dragons’ jaws swept down. They passed over her and snapped down on Borkul with a heavy crunch that filled her world -- one clean bite that lifted Borkul off her and out of the world in a single motion. His legs kicked; his roar of rage was silenced in a moment.

 

Something wiggled in Aithne’s ass and she reached back and felt it protruding. She grasped and pulled and found herself holding Borkul’s cock, still hard and pulsing as if it was alive. She shuddered and tossed it over the edge of the cliff, then looked up at the dragon. It hovered before her -- vast, ancient, patient -- and opened its mouth.

 

She expected fire or gnashing teeth, and she held herself still for it. Instead, it made a sound like a cat with a hairball and spat out a key. It landed in her hand and she looked up at the door in front of her. It was the size of eternity yet no size at all. She fitted the key to a hole that had not existed a moment before and turned it.

 

The door swung open with a silence that bordered on deafening. Light poured through the crack -- pure white, brilliant and warm, yet not blinding. It wrapped around her, pressed against her skin, filled her lungs with something that felt like the first breath she had ever taken. Peace, vast and wordless, settled into her bones. She felt held. She felt known. She knew, in that crystalline moment, that what lay on the other side of the door was The Answer. Not just to every question she had ever asked, not even to the questions she would ask in the future – it was, simply, The Answer. To everything.

 

She took a breath and stepped forward.

 

Aithne woke with a suddenness that made her head spin and felt a moment of disoriented panic. Something hovered on the edge of her mind, some tantalizing light that fractured and flaked away as she reached for it. She was left with only the dim residual glow that something momentous had been within her grasp and was now lost.

 

She didn’t know why, but a moment later, she found herself weeping.

 

--

 

The small table looked almost absurdly normal. 

 

Light filtered in through the narrow window in a pale, steady wash, catching on the familiar worn grain of the wood and the rim of a simple bowl. The room smelled faintly of bread and herbs and home -- clean, warm, and quiet in a way that felt so normal, so right.

 

Aithne devoured it in much the same way she devoured the food laid out before her.

 

She ate like she had forgotten food existed, barely pausing to chew before reaching for more. Bread tore under her fingers, fruit disappeared as quickly as she could bring it to her mouth. There was no hesitation, no pacing, no attempt to slow herself -- only a steady, controlled urgency, as if the act of eating itself required her full attention, as if stopping might somehow cause it all to vanish.

 

Urag sat across from her, his cup of tea untouched, watching her with an expression she could not quite name. She fought against her instinct to peer into his mind.

 

"Your husband and wife are asleep," he said after she had slowed from ‘ravening beast’ to merely ‘hungry wolf.’ “They sat with you through most of the sixteen days you were asleep.”

 

Aithne blinked and looked up with a piece of cheese halfway to her mouth. “Sixteen days?”

 

He nodded, expression neutral, mind abuzz with emotions and thoughts Aithne forced herself not to feel or see.

 

“I had to push them out this morning – they were looked worse than you did when we found you.”

 

Aithne flushed as a disjointed memory of leaping into his arms fizzled to the surface. “About that, I…”

 

Urag held up a hand and shook his head. A spike of something Aithne desperately wanted to explore exploded behind his calm façade. “Forget it. It’s fine. I am more interested in what happened. You had clearly managed to break free from whatever he had done -- something to do with those chains hanging from the ceiling, I assume.”

 

She nodded as she leaned back, suddenly no longer interested in food. “He had me chained. Arms and legs. I couldn’t move anything but my head.”

 

“And he was foolish enough to leave you with access to mana. I suppose that’s what he gets for…”

 

“No, he put a restricting collar on me. I couldn’t feel any mana at all.”

 

A pause. Then, “So you beat him physically?” She didn’t need to read his thoughts to recognize the doubt in his tone.

 

“No,” she responded, a bit piqued. “But I probably could have had I had the opportunity. I was a soldier before this, you know.”

 

Urag opened his mouth, appeared to think twice about what he had been about to say, and resorted to clearing his throat before continuing. “How about I stop trying to guess. What happened?”

 

Aithne sighed as she tried to find the best way to answer.

 

“In my…previous life, when you and I were…um…when you were teaching me about magic, you told me the most important thing about magic is imagination. Anyone can learn spells and cast them without thinking.”

 

Urag snorted. “True. That’s how you get hedge wizards and court mages.”

 

Aithne laughed. “That’s exactly what you said, yes. So I was hanging there while Merks was blabbing on about…something, and that came to mind. So I…imagined.”

 

The orc frowned. “I don’t understand. You imagined yourself free and you just were? That’s not how it works.”

 

“Not like that, no. I…imagined the mana all around, then imagined pulling it in. Then imagined releasing it. And it did.”

 

Another pause. A long one. Urag's brow furrowed. "You cast through a suppressive collar."

 

"Yes."

 

“Without a catalyst."

 

"I didn’t have one."

 

"Without a somatic component."

 

"I could not move my arms."

 

He frowned and set down his cup. "What you are saying is theoretically possible, although I sincerely doubt the other me meant his lesson to be taken that literally.”

 

“You’re right, it was a lesson in not allowing yourself to be constrained by the narrow methods of using magic as taught by the college, to use what I know of magic to stretch it within the constraints of the limiters. It did not mean to take a shortcut by stepping outside the limiters completely.”

 

Urag grunted. “Sounds like a wise teacher. That should have killed you."

 

“I know. It nearly did.”

 

“And then you slept for sixteen straight days after Colette healed you.” Another frown. “Although she said there wasn’t much wrong with you physically. Just exhaustion.”

 

Aithne blinked as her heart jumped. “Colette healed me?”

 

Urag nodded. “Of course. She is the best Restoration mage in the college, you know. Possibly the best in living memory, for that matter.”

 

“I…I know.” A myriad of conflicting emotions started swirling in both of them. Aithne tamped hers down as well she could – now was not the time to wallow – but could do nothing but try to ignore his. It didn’t help that a hint of lust was included. She took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. “I didn’t expect to wake up here, in…in your suite. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

 

Urag waved a hand. “I don’t know the convalescence ward well enough to teleport directly there – I walk everywhere so I never bothered learning all the sigils – and then Colette said it would be best if you weren’t moved until you woke. It was no trouble.”

 

A clear lie, which Aithne would have known even without being able to feel it – anything that disrupted his life was trouble, by definition. “Still, I appreciate it. I…know you like privacy.”

 

Another grunt but then he took his turn to change the subject. “That cave has been hidden for nearly 800 years. We knew it existed – there are records of it. But some student 787 years ago cast a Memory Rune across the entrance, so anyone who saw it immediately forgot where it was as soon as they looked away.”

 

Aithne sat back slightly, her thoughts already aligning. “In the other timeline…” she stopped and bit down on what she had been about to say (“I was a slave and Merks tried to steal me”) “…Merks tried to do something just like this. He told me he was going to take me somewhere no one would ever find me.”

 

Urag’s expression tightened. “He kidnapped you before as well? Why have you trusted him, then?”

 

“He seemed…different. This time. I think that mask…” She stopped as the memory of the mask blazed a new trail of thought through her. “The mask! We need to…”

 

“It is safe.”

 

“…destroy it or…” She stumbled to a stop and blinked at Urag. “What?”

“The mask he was wearing. It is safe.”

 

“It is not safe! I think it was talking to him, telling him…”

 

“I mean, it is in safe hands. We brought it back here. It is being studied. Carefully.”

 

“I…” Aithne paused as her heartbeat slowed. “Good. How did you know?”

“How did I know what?”

 

“That the mask is…evil. Or…cursed. Or…something.”

 Urag snorted. “Well of course it is ‘or something.’ No one in their right mind would pick up something like that and just plop it on their head or give it to someone. Only a fool would start using an ancient relic without first studying it fully. I assume he found it in some ruin somewhere.“

 

Aithne cleared her throat as she felt a flush roll through her body. “Um. Yes, probably. Um. I think it was whispering to him. Somehow it knew about the previous lifetime and it was showing him things. Except it was…twisting them. He saw parts of that life but not the whole and…came to some wrong conclusions.”

 

“Typical Merks – he never did do due diligence.”

 

They both laughed and, for a moment, it really was like being home – just sitting at the table talking to Urag, laughing about this student or that, sharing gripes about books placed in the wrong places. She half-expected Chtonji to run by screaming. Tears began to well but she shook those and the memories away – that wasn’t here, that wasn’t now. She shifted and stood, then leaned on the chair as her weakened body swayed. Urag jumped up, a concerned look on his face, but Aithne held up a forestalling hand.

 

“I’m…fine. I’m…” she took a deep breath. “Look, I know my presence here has…confused things. I should never have told anyone about…” she waved a hand at nothing; at everything, “…my past life. Especially about you and me. It was…not fair for you. I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath, held up a finger as he began to speak. “We’re…leaving. Tomorrow. Mor Khazgur has built a gnot for us. It was ready over a week ago, but I was…” Putting off leaving, was the truth. “…studying,” is what she said.

 

"Tomorrow."

 

She nodded. She was not supposed to be reading his thoughts -- had promised herself she would not -- but in that moment, the urge was too strong and she allowed herself a peek.

 

Chaos.

 

Part of him believed her. More than believed -- part of him knew, in a way that defied logic, that the story she had told was true. And that part, buried beneath years of routine and stubborn isolation, wanted to ask her to stay. A larger part was relieved -- she was a complication, a disruption. A reminder of something he had not asked for and did not know how to process. When she left, things would go back to how they were -- peaceful, simple, manageable. He could return to his books and his silence and the predictable comfort of a life built around order.

 

And beneath both of those -- smaller, quieter, harder to hear -- a third voice wondered if peace was even possible anymore. If she had changed something just by being here. If the shape of his life, once disturbed, could ever settle back into its old contours.

 

She pulled her mind back, closing herself off as she reached for the last piece of bread.

 

"Make sure the college will still be here when I need it," she averred with a wink. "I still have research to finish.”

 

She couldn’t stop the smile that crossed her face at the palpable relief and hope that coursed through him even as he steeled himself against it. With practiced gestures, she made the motions Ghint had taught her in this very suite, in this very room, in very nearly this very spot and was whisked away in an instant from the life she longed for to the one she had chosen.

 

 

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