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Gypsy of a strange and distant time
Traveling in panic, all directions blind
Aching for the warmth of a burning sun
Freezing in the emptiness of where he'd come from

Left without a hope of coming home

Speeding through a shadow of a million years
Darkness is the only sound to reach his ears
Frightening him with visions of eternity
Screaming for a future that can never be

"Gypsy (Of A Strange And Distant Time)" - Justin Hayward

He awakens in the middle of the night, drenched in ice-cold sweat and confused. His heart hammers in his chest as he casts about, trying to get his bearings. Where is he? What is going on?

After a moment, his faculties begin to return and, with a snap of his fingers, he lights the nearby sconce. The pale light illuminates a room with red and black décor, and the nearby mirror (an antique now, but still not as old as he is) reflects the flame's light back at him.

He is in this familiar room in the inn. This is where he lives now. A voice from centuries past is echoing faintly just out of hearing, and he cannot make out the words. But for now, he is in the present, a distant future from the world he left behind, that he woke up into less than two years ago.

Bringing a hand to his forehead, he blinks rapidly, finding his eyes oddly moist. There are… tears? On his eyelashes? There is also a name on his tongue, trying to escape his lips.

His heart is still hammering in his chest, as though something is happening just within sensing range, but out of range of his actual senses. It is a vague sixth or seventh sense that something has just happened.

He was once a dragon priest. He should know what this means, but he doesn't. Centuries of slumber and loss of runes has rendered him muddled and a little slow on the uptake sometimes.

Go, something inside of him says. Go.

He climbs out of bed, rummages briefly for clothes, and dresses quickly, thumping his chest on two different occasions to see if he can get his racing heart to calm down. Then, mindful that it is still the dead of night and surely other people are sleeping, he slips silently out of the room, moves lightly down the stairs, and hurries outside.

Oof. The bite of chill hits him in the face. It is deep in autumn; winter is just around the corner.

His feet carry him down the steps, across the cobbled street, and down more stairs. He isn't even sure where he's going, but he follows this feeling as though it is a wisp in the night.

Ventuswill. The name surges up in his heart. Venti, is that you? Am I sensing you?

Has Frey done what she promised? After so long – half a year now has passed since she began venturing into the Forest of Beginnings' outermost boundaries – has the Earthmate made good on her promise and brought the Divine Wind back to Selphia?

His feet carry him across the intricate plaza and to the doorway to the castle. There, he stops short. Can he bear to face that room, if it is empty?

Ever since Ventuswill disappeared a year and a half ago, such a short time after he himself was resurrected from his ageless sleep, he has felt a deep, gnawing sense of loss, which he has tried desperately to close off. He gave up his future and most of his life force for her, because he believed in her. She sent that Earthmate to free him, and then, before he could catch up with her, her body failed her, and she ultimately died.

His hopes for her have dwindled over the weeks, as time has worn on and it became clear that even Frey, in all her strength and glory, is likely unequal to the task of saving a god from death, and so the bubble of grief has swelled. He has lost everything except his very life, and for what? If he goes in there and Venti isn't where she belongs, his heart may not survive the tidal wave of grief. And why should he find her there now, when she hasn't been there before? What reason does he have to believe this midnight anxiety attack means anything?

“Leon?” A voice splits the cold night air behind him. “What are you doing here and at this hour?”

He turns to see a figure behind him, cloaked in the darkness of the night but vaguely illuminated by the moon. He recognizes this silhouette now after two years among these people. (It helps that there is also a specter, a shade, that swirls around her.)

“I… felt something. It drew me here. But now my courage fails me.” In this moment, he cannot even muster any facades. Honesty is ripped out of him by force, and he finds his vulnerability laid bare. “I can't explain it.”

“Something called me too.” Dolce takes a step toward him, and a bracing wind blows across the plaza, causing her to shudder and stop.

“Hey!” A very deep, resonating voice calls over. “What are you two doing here?”

Dylas moves with speed and grace as he strides up, ignoring the stiff breeze that ruffles his hair and blows it all over. In this moment, with the half-light of the moon cascading over them, his equine features are amplified and for just a moment, Leon imagines he can see the form Dylas must have taken when the runes overwhelmed and transformed him.

“Did you not hear me? Why are you standing out here in the cold at two in the bloody morning? What's going on? Did something happen? Where's Frey?”

“We could ask you the same questions, Dylas,” Dolce says calmly, though her eyes are fierce. Pico is oddly silent. “Why are you here?”

“I… don't know. I woke up in a panic and… everything inside of me was screaming to come here. I… okay, not gonna lie, was kinda hoping when I saw you that maybe you could explain what the hell is going on. C'mon, Leon, spill the beans. Why are you here? Did you sense something too?”

Hope is blooming in his heart, and he tries to squeeze it away. No. He knows that if he walks into that room and the floor is empty, lonely, he will not be able to maintain stoicism.

Yet he is the oldest of them, the first of the Guardians, and they have all looked to him for guidance in her absence. He turns slowly to look out over the plaza, and there he sees another figure moving toward them. She is small, hunched over and looks miserable, but it is clearly Amber.

All four of the Guardians who sustained Ventuswill, freed from their spells by Frey, have come here at the same time, drawn by the same unseen, unknown force. What can this mean?

If he gives the order, or even issues a suggestion, he knows Dylas, a brave and nearly fearless soul, will do what he himself fears to do. He can send Dylas in to see what happened to Venti's room, to draw them here. That will give him enough time and distance to bulwark his heart against the oncoming pain. But…

“Wait here, you three. I will go see what is going on.”

He turns, slowly, to face the doors that stand closed at night, but will be opened at first light.

Do not follow me , he wills them. If I see what I know I will see, I will not be able to hold back. I don't want you to see me fall apart.

Grasping the door handle, he pushes it far enough to slip through. Then, girding his heart, hardening his resolve and steeling his nerves, he forces his legs to move.

One step. Then another. And another. At last, he crosses the threshold, and lets the door shut behind him. He has shut his eyes out of fear, in a last ditch effort to protect his fragile heart, and he forces them open. Time to face the truth, that their sacrifices have been for nothing.

Moonlight streams through the oculus in the roof and bathes the subtle platform in its silver gaze.

Suddenly, he can't see anything, because his vision is blinded by tears. But he feels her presence.

“Venti…” He breathes her name, and brings both hands to wipe his eyes so that he can take in the sight before him. The moonlight cascading from above bathes the figure before him in a shining rime.

She is glorious. She seems to fill the room, and her feathery wings glitter in the moonlight as she shifts around and her shimmering eyes focus on him. His oldest, dearest friend.

“Leon? What time is it? I'm afraid I'm a little confused right now.”

“Venti, are you really back? Are you real? Or am I so lost to my own fears that I'm hallucinating?”

“Are you sleep-walking again?” Venti reaches out with one wing and a feather caresses his face. “Shall I slap you awake?” Her voice is incredibly tender. But more importantly, the pinion that touches his face and lifts away the tears, is solid and real. She is really here, in front of him, against all odds.

Ventuswill, the Divine Wind, the Native Dragon of wind, god-dragon and patron of Selphia, and one of his dearest friends, has returned. He has an overwhelming urge to throw himself at her, to hug her, and to weep openly for joy that at she has returned, that everything he sacrificed was not lost in vain.

But before he can succumb to an unbecoming desire to behave in a manner that might make things awkward for him, he remembers that three other former Guardians are waiting anxiously out in the cold just beyond the door behind him. Reaching back, he grasps the handle and pulls hard, swinging the door open.

“Dylas, Dolce, Amber. Venti's back. Frey has saved her. Come see her.”

The door is forced open even further by Dylas using his body as a battering ram, as he slams through and into the room. “Venti?!” Then he stops, and looks up at the silver-lit dragon sitting comfortably before them. For a moment, the tall man gapes stupidly at the dragon.

Dolce and Amber follow him in, and together, the four Guardians face their dear friend, dearer to each of them than anyone else at one point in their lives, as she sits there and regards them.

“W...where's Frey? Didn't she come back with you?” Dylas is the one who gives voice to the one thing wrong with this scenery. With those few words, a new dread and grief grips Leon's stomach.

Frey is everything to them all. She is their savior and their only hope. As the only Earthmate they know, she is vital. If she was sacrificed in order to bring back Ventuswill…

Venti's eyes glitter serenely; “She will be back soon. She isn't divine, you know. Her magic takes time to transport her. Sadly, we could not come back together.”

Amber is sobbing and flings herself onto Ventuswill's wing. Dolce follows, though with dignity (but still tearful) and Dylas, his face turning red, steps forward as well, to embrace their ancient friend, newly rejuvenated and restored to them.

Leon cannot move his feet right now. He is too busy absorbing the reality around him. He gave up everything, even his own life, and certainly his own future of normalcy, to keep her alive, and it wasn't enough, which is why Dolce, Dylas and Amber all followed his lead. But now… she is back, they are together again, and he has a new lease on life. Better yet, he can have the conversation with her that he never got to have, the catching-up that lay like a shadow over his heart since she disappeared.

There is a pounding of feet from off to the right, and he looks over to see a tiny, spritely figure come dashing into the room, pigtails swinging wildly in the breeze of her passing.

“VENTI!!” Frey screams as if to wake the dead. The Earthmate seems oblivious to the presence of the four Guardians. “You… you are back! What the hell? You had me convinced I failed at the last moment!”

“I think we should give them some space,” Leon says to Dylas and Dolce, indicating that they should peel Amber off of the dragon. “Frey did the legwork; she deserves the reunion. We'll have time aplenty to spend with Venti later.”

Dylas plucks Amber from Ventuswill's wing, and the four of them step back, flush to the wall, as the Native Dragon languidly faces the Earthmate with that mischievous smile.

“You're late, Frey. What's with that look on your face? Don't tell me you forgot my face after all this time, have you?” A moment and then Venti's expression softens. “I haven't forgotten yours. So… why don't we start discussing all manner of silly things, like you said we would?”

“Venti…” Frey seems speechless, and then she bursts into tears, and flings herself onto the dragon, much like Amber did.

“It's the middle of the night, perhaps you should go to bed, and then in the morning, when you've had a good sleep, we can talk about what happened. I imagine your shouting has brought everyone in town here by now.”

Leon senses movement and looks over at the left hand door. Volkanon and Vishnal, draped in shadows, are peering into the room with identical stunned expressions. With a flick of magic, he draws their attention to him, and silently gestures for them to remain silent. This moment between Frey and Ventuswill really should not be interrupted.

Frey looks utterly exhausted, and her clothing is a mess. She has bruises and scrapes, and a deep gash on one arm, hastily closed up with healing magic. Her eyes are glassy with fatigue, but she turns and looks at the Guardians as if seeing them for the first time.

“What are you guys doing here at this hour?”

“You're not the only one who loves Venti,” Dylas retorts acridly, and then his face flushes bright crimson and he turns away. Dolce, ever calm and composed, silently reaches over and smothers Pico so that the spirit will not say anything. Amber just sobs quietly.

Leon, feeling a rising wave of far too many emotions he can't even begin to understand, brings a hand to his chest and bends at the waist in a respectful bow; “Allow me to thank you, Frey, for keeping your promise and bringing Venti back. You can rest easy now; we'll take care of her until you feel better.”

Dolce steps forward; “I will escort you to the clinic, Frey. You need medical attention. When you are fully healed, we can discuss the miracle you have pulled off.”

Amber, scrubbing tears from her eyes, looks at the other Guardians. “I'm exhausted. I need to go sleep. This cold is just bothering me so much. I want to stay with Venti but….”

Leon gestures as kindly as he can; “Go, Amber. Venti will be here when you wake up. You all need sleep. I'll stay with Venti for now, and you can come see her when you've had a good night's sleep.”

It is a sign of just how exhausted both Frey and Amber are (for very different reasons) that neither of them argues. Frey allows Dolce to guide her out the door and away, toward the clinic, and Amber, wilting like a flower in the winter, placidly bids them goodnight and leaves.

“You should go sleep too, Dylas. You've got bags under your eyes.”

“Screw that,” the other Guardian retorts, but in a very soft voice, so soft that it's possible Ventuswill won't hear; Leon himself might not have heard it if not for his heightened hearing thanks to these outrageous fox ears on his head now. “I will say it again, Leon: You ain't the only one who loves Venti. I'm staying right here. You can go back to bed if you like.”

“You, unlike me, have a job with a schedule.”

“Porco will understand.”

“I can hear you both,” Ventuswill says serenely as she shifts around, as if finding just the right place, and settles down onto her belly, her tail and wings curling around her body comfortably. “I am here, in the flesh and scale. You do not need to watch over me, I won't disappear again, at least not for a long time. In fact, I'd appreciate if you both let me sleep. I know how you get, Dylas. If Leon riles you up, I'll get no sleep at all.”

This is a clear dismissal, and it is so very Venti. He finds himself fighting back tears again. His old, dear friend, as magnanimous and divine as she is selfish and petty.

Dylas reaches over and roughly shoves the older Guardian; “C'mon. Let's get out of here and let her sleep. Venti's no fun to be around when she's tired and cranky.”

“You don't have to push me around, you know. I can move just fine.”

As they move toward the door, a deep voice calls to them; “A moment, please, Sir Leon.” Volkanon, the senior butler, intercepts them at the door. As much as Leon would love to mess with Volkanon right now, this is an inappropriate moment to do so.

“What exactly is going on?” The butler inquires. “I'm afraid to assume anything.”

“As you can see, Ventuswill has returned. Frey was injured in the process, so Dolce has taken her to get medical attention, but it is likely completely superficial. We are going to leave them both alone to rest, and revisit what has happened in the morning when everyone has had a chance to sleep.”

“So…?”

“I would advise you to go back to bed and wait until sunrise to check on her. I do not think anything will happen between now and then, but if it does, I will handle it. Go back to bed, Volkanon. You too, Vishnal.”

The younger butler wipes tears from his eyes, smarts to attention and salutes, and then fades into the darkness of the corridor.

Outside, in the frigid breeze blowing up from the south, the two Guardians stand as if at vigil. Dylas, restless and still processing what all has gone through his mind in the past half an hour, tilts his head slightly to eye the other man nearby.

Leon is motionless in the chilly pre-dawn air, despite his archaic dress (how is he not freezing, with all that bare skin?). Only that absurd fan that he carries moves independently of the wind.

Dylas needs to tread carefully; Leon is clever and quick, and delights in annoying everyone around, including Frey (in fact, he has heard Leon call Frey his favorite target). Dylas himself is quick to anger but slow to retort; he wonders why he hasn't been targeted more by Leon, since he knows himself to be an easy mark (case in point: Doug) to someone as clever as the older Guardian. He has long been on his guard around Leon, and now, with everything in turmoil, he is desperate to figure out just what is going on between those piercing teal eyes.

“She's amazing, isn't she?” He finds his voice.

“Hm?” One of those large vulpine ears rotates toward him, though Leon is otherwise motionless. “Yes, she is quite impressive. She's an elder dragon, one of four godly dragons, and if you believe the myths I studied back when I became a dragon priest, she is the original of the Native Dragons. Turns out, all that was wrong, just propaganda, but I grew up believing it.” The fan snaps shut, and Leon's head turns to toward him. There is a mischievous glint in his eye. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about her, Dylas. That was quite the love confession.”

He resists the urge to stomp his foot in frustration. “Don't go there. Yes, Venti is amazing, but I wasn't talking about her just now. I was talking about Frey.”

The ear twitches.

There are a million and one emotions swirling around inside Dylas, many of them tied to that massive dragon in the room behind them, and many more of them tied to the tiny, fierce little Earthmate who has become everyone's savior. A loner most of his life, unable to connect with anyone whose rune power was lesser than his own, he spent too many years robbed of his humanity, a humanity that she gave back to him. The more he learns about his fellow Guardians, the more he envies them for their lost connections.

Leon in particular is prone to brief fugues of introspection, musing on those he left behind when he became a Guardian (usually followed up by a scathing comment as an obvious deflection; even Dylas recognizes the pattern for what it is, but since no one else calls him out on it, Dylas doesn't either). Dolce doesn't speak of her past, but Pico certainly tries, and there is a sense of tremendous loss, a pain of loss so deep she can't bear to give it words. Even Amber speaks wistfully of the world she left behind when she became Venti's last Guardian, usually talking about entire fields of flowers and warm, scented breezes.

By contrast, Dylas has no connection to his own past. He doesn't want to go back there, he doesn't care what happened to the people he left behind; Venti was the only one who mattered. He remembers plenty, but only his memories of Venti, his only real friend, are worth recalling. Everything else is painful. Even when he ponders the villagers of his time, he finds he cares very little beyond idle curiosity. Ventuswill was the only one who truly mattered.

Worse still, he remembers the agony as the runes that fused into his body began to overpower him, and the deep-borne desperation and feral rage that twisted his very body into that hideous quadrupedal equine abomination. (The gross irony, that he became a horse.) He has been nothing human at all for so long, he barely knows what it means to be human. He fears himself, that the monster will resurface and he will lose himself again. Especially now, when he finally has something resembling a family, people who accept him, and something other than a dying Native Dragon to protect.

Everything he has now, he owes not to Venti, but to Frey. Well, perhaps a little to Venti, because she is the one who compelled Frey to do what she did, but… it was Frey who freed him from that agony, who gave him a chance to open his own eyes, to see the world, and to learn what it means to be human. It was Frey who gave him back his humanity, a humanity lost years before the runes twisted him into Thunderbolt.

The world he woke up into two and a half years ago is different from what it was when he went into the Water Temple to become the third Guardian for Ventuswill. Back then, the runes were so weak that anyone with a strong enough presence to attract them was reviled, pushed away, lest he draw monsters and ill fortune upon the town. Now, the world he lives in, rune power is everywhere (even if not enough to sustain the dragons), and everyone in this town overflows with it. No one reviles him for drawing rune power to him. Instead, a tiny Earthmate, a musical elf, a bookish prince and a loudmouthed rotund human chef have all welcomed him with open arms. The other Guardians might wish for the worlds they were born into, but Dylas couldn't care less. That world he left behind can burn. He prefers the present.

Leon is utterly silent for several minutes, but Dylas knows that the comment has not been ignored. Rather, the other Guardian is considering his words. When Leon goes silent, Dylas has learned, you pay attention, because when he breaks that silence, it will be something worth listening to. He doesn't spend this much time thinking up an elaborate joke. Usually, anyway.

“Earthmates are weird, you know? They're normal humans, more normal than you and I are anymore.” His fox ears twitch again, and his tail swishes. Dylas feels his own tail swaying in the swirling breeze. “Yet they have the power to alter the entire damned world. They can save a god, though not without some sort of sacrifice. And they're diligent enough, they found a way to save a god without sacrificing any more human life. Who knows what Frey was capable of before she lost her memories? It's terrifying to think of, that one single puny human can contain so very much power. You're not wrong, she is incredible, to the point of defying belief. I knew Earthmates back then, but none of them were anything like Frey is.”

There is something in the way that he speaks, the tender way he says the Earthmate's name, that gives Dylas a deep, stabbing anger in his gut. A single word forms briefly in his mind, before being buried in his tendency to repress: Rival.

Rival for what, though? The answer to that question is something he isn't ready to face yet.

“Are you all right, Dylas? Your face is awfully red considering how cold it is out here.”

“Sh-shut up, fox-man.” The epithet slips out before he can stop it.

The fan in Leon's hand snaps shut. It is the only sign of annoyance, since the other Guardian's face is still stoically expressionless.

“I could sic them on you if I wanted to. How fast can you run, horse-boy?” The fan snaps back open and covers most of his face coquettishly, and he blinks his eyes in a manner that can only be described as flirtatious. Then the moment passes and the other Guardian is facing forward again, as if none of it has happened.

“I assume you must have something you want to ask me, if you're still standing here. If you wanted to stand vigil, you could stand at another door, after all. You always look like there's something you want to ask me, but you never actually say it. What's on your mind? It's just us and the moon right now.”

Bullseye. Dylas flinches acutely at that.

“Still not going to talk? Fair enough. I've had far worse companions for a midnight vigil, I suppose. Brr, it's chilly tonight.”

He is far too stressed to sleep right now. Stressed and confused. He is beyond relieved that Venti is back. He wants to talk with her, to tell her about all the fish he's managed to catch, to hear her praise his skill, and catch up with her. She is the first friend he ever had, the only one who mattered for far too long. But he also is so very stressed and confused, as there is something else blossoming in his chest.

“I don't trust you, Leon, and I don't know why. You're Venti's old friend. She trusts you; everyone trusts you. But I can't. I'm sorry. Maybe that's a sign.” He looks at the ground beneath his feet as the intrusive thoughts he has tried to ignore begin to swell up. Maybe I'm not really human at all, horse features nonwithstanding. Maybe I'm just a monster masquerading as a human. Maybe I am a threat to everyone.

And then the worst of all intrusive thoughts: Maybe I should leave…

Silence again.

“Well, I won't say it doesn't hurt, but I think I can understand. Is it the foxes? I'd ask if it's the ears and tail, but you've got that too.”

“I don't know what it is. I have literally no reason to feel this way. Sorry. I'm not going back right now, I can't sleep, but I'd rather not talk.”

He hates this so much. Perhaps it had been grieving for Venti that had made him think he was finally human. Now that she's back, the facade is gone, and… no, that doesn't even make sense.

I need to talk to her. I need her so badly. I'm used to being alone and yet… I can't bear to be. Even now, I'm standing here with this idiot rather than be alone with my thoughts .

Venti has always been the only one who mattered, the only one who accepted him because he was no threat to her, and she made him feel like a normal human. He sacrificed himself, his future, and possibly his entire life, for her, without hesitation, because she was his only friend at the time. Even if he tries to say he did it for everyone, the reality is that Venti is the only one who ever mattered.

But now everything is different. He finally feels at peace, like he has a home. Porcoline's open-arm welcome to him, working at the restaurant, bantering with Margaret, butting heads with Doug, talking with Frey… everything made him feel like he has finally become fully human. For the first time in his life, he feels like he belongs in a community, and he just wants to stay here.

And now, all of a sudden, he feels monstrous. Thunderbolt's wild rage simmers somewhere deep inside, and it feels as though he could lose everything in moments. The nightmares that haunted him when he woke up tonight in a blind panic, compelling him to come here, have begun to manifest.

He is in a community he has come to love, accepted by people he has come to think of as family, who have become precious to him. For the first time in his life, he has something to live for now.

Why is this happening now?

Well, this is certainly an odd turn of events he didn't anticipate. Leon idly flicks the fan in his hands as he arranges his thoughts, pondering what to do next.

Dylas is clearly in agony. Not only is it clear in his posture and in his expressions, but Leon can feel something deep in his heart, through something like empathy, a sense that the other man is suffering in silence.

He isn't sure if this empathy he feels is a result of his own transformation, or if it is a power he always had (there are holes in his memory, likely sacrificed to the runes that fused him to the sarcophagus he was sealed into) but he knows that something is deeply wrong, and it isn't his own pain.

Thus, his conundrum of how to proceed. He doesn't need Venti to tell him to do anything; his natural desire to help has already dictated that he must help his fellow Guardian. It is unconscionable to allow someone to suffer so. But what can he do? He knows so very little about Dylas in particular, because the other man never speaks of his past. He has gotten Dolce and Amber to each reveal small amounts of their pasts (Amber is much more forthcoming than Dolce), and knows that they, like him, are torn between two distant worlds. They have the desire to return to their original time, but also wish to stay here with people they have come to love.

But Dylas is a mystery. Not even Arthur has been able to get much out of the tall Guardian, except that he lived during a drought, which is why his power spot was a “water temple” at the time, and that he despises his monstrous form, to the point where calling him a horse can rile him up.

Leon has always gotten a kick out of tweaking the noses of anyone he finds too uptight, deliberately hitting triggers to get a rise out of someone. But he does not delight in causing genuine pain to his targets. The first time he teased Dylas about his equine features, the resulting sullen glare and jaw-clenched growl of “Not you too” convinced Leon that this is not a fun mark. The younger Guardian is fun to tease about his taciturn shyness; teasing him about his horse features just makes Leon feel bad. (However, hearing Dylas call him “fox-man” triggered an automatic retaliation just now.)

Somehow, Venti's return has broken something inside Dylas.

“Tell me, Dylas. If you could go back in time with the knowledge we have now, rune spheres and the ability to replace a Guardian with a crystal rock, would you? If you could tell the Earthmates how to make a rune sphere, and--”

“No. Why, would you?”

“Yes.” He is taken aback by how sharply Dylas has responded. “If I could spare Venti the pain of knowing that her life is being extended only at the cost of a friend's life, then yes, I would. Not to mention all the others I left behind.”

“And if I went back in time and told them about these rune spheres, you would still be lost to the world. So no, no point in me going back in time.”

“So… you prefer what happened to you, to stopping it?”

“Just shut up, Leon. What part of 'I don't want to talk' do you not understand?” A shadow seems to coalesce around Dylas, a threatening aura of despair and rage. “I need Venti, not you.”

Leon has forgotten more than he will admit about his past life, but he hasn't forgotten how to use rune energy. With a silent command, he summons Uno and Sano to himself, amplifying his own rune energy. The threatening shadow dissipates and Dylas looks more exhausted and pathetic than dangerous. All of this happens in a matter of heartbeats and no words are exchanged.

“I can't help you if you don't tell me what's bothering you. I may not be ordained anymore due to the amount of time passing, but I was a dragon priest. I could help you.”

“I didn't ask you for help.”

Leon snaps his fan shut again and turns to face the taller guardian. “Explain that horse-like shadow over your shoulder, then. It's glaring at me.”

The ruse works; Dylas's eyes grow huge and he whirls around, looking frantically. When he fails to see anything, he turns to Leon, and his eyes betray a potent, naked emotion: Terror.

Not just fear, but genuine terror.

“It's happening again…” He says in that voice that is so low that Leon might never have heard it if not for these fox ears. He sounds nearly broken.

“What's happening again? What are you afraid of? Are you really planning to dump something this heavy on Venti on her first day back in a real body after being dead?”

Dylas is utterly silent for a long time, his head slowly lowering until his chin rests against his collarbone, and his long mane of hair covers his face. He is obviously warring with himself, trying to decide between his usual taciturn stoicism, and actually opening up.

He did admit to not trusting Leon, so there's a very real chance that he will choose to clam up and refuse to play along.

“I don't know what happened to you, or the others, but I felt every moment when the runes fused with me. I didn't die, but it felt like I was dying slowly, losing myself. I've never known such pain, or such fear. I was helpless. I'm no good with feelings, but I felt everything, all at once. And then, to add insult to injury, Venti erased my memories, and I don't think she restored them all. Now I don't know how to suppress Thunderbolt, how to stop it from doing that again.”

Now he sees it. Dylas mistakenly believes his monstrous form, a result of the Etherlink spell and the fusing of runes, will return. It explains a lot now: why Dylas represses his emotions so vehemently (believing emotions to be a trigger) and why he becomes so unsettled to be reminded of his equine features.

Taking two steps, he closes the distance between them, and gently bops the taller Guardian on the head with his fan. “You're worrying over nothing. You can't return to that form, even if you wanted to. Frey broke the spell. What you are feeling is just emotions.”

“And how the hell do you know?”

“Who do you think was the test subject for that spell? Go ahead and ask Venti about it when she's awake and feeling like it, if you really don't believe me, but don't dump your problems on her. Dump them on me. Despite what you might think, I'm a pretty good listener. Got the ears for it and everything.” He gestures up at the two appendages on top of his head.

“Go away,” Dylas murmurs, swatting him away irritably. He seems a bit calmer though, so Leon relents and moves back to his original position.

It is a long way to sunrise. He will be horribly bored now, with no conversation.

“… thank you, Leon.”

“Oh? Ready to talk now?”

“No. I just wanted to thank you… for caring. I'm still not used to being fussed over. No one gave a damn about me my whole damned life, except for Venti.”

Leon waits a precise amount of time before reacting; “You must have cared very deeply for her from the beginning. The spell doesn't work if you don't have a deep bond. You have to be willing to give up your very life. There was never a guarantee that any of us would awaken.”

“She was my only friend. Yeah, I was ready to die for her. What value did my life have compared to hers? Only… I didn't. It was worse than dying.”

Got you to talk anyway, didn't I? He thinks, but maintains his distance. “She would have never forgiven herself if any of the four of us never woke up.” The kinship he feels to these three other people, all born hundreds of years after him, is surprising to him. But they share something powerful in common. “She waited for each of us, Dylas. All those centuries, she waited to see us again. We got off cheap, getting her back after only a year and a half. Mortality aside, we're very lucky.”

The next words that come out of the other Guardian's mouth surprise him: “Would you do it again? Knowing your sacrifice would ultimately fail and three more people would have to do it too, would you still do it?”

He lets a silence fall between them briefly before speaking; “Without hesitation. My sacrifice didn't really fail . I saved more than just Venti, after all. It just wasn't enough for the amount of time that the Earthmates needed to produce a better solution. Allow me to use your own words to you: You aren't the only one who loves Venti. She was far from my only friend, but she was – and is – still incredibly important to me. As her priest, and as her friend, it was my duty, my honor, and my choice, to give what I could to save her and the world she loves.”

“And yet you lost more than I did. You haven't fooled me, Leon. I may not be as clever as you, but I have eyes and I can see that you suffer too. Is this result really worth what you lost? I've heard you say you believe in the power of words. Tell me, Leon: was your sacrifice really worth it?”

His chest tightens sharply and his mind spins back centuries, to distant memories of friends and family, half-forgotten sounds and lost vistas. The tower he spent those centuries in looks different than it did the day he entered it, and the carvings on its walls are faded; some are nearly gone entirely from erosion. Voices from his childhood and youth, his early manhood, his priesthood and his days of wandering, swirl around just out of reach. He is a man displaced in the flow of time. To quote a song he vaguely remembers, he is a gypsy of a strange and distant time, traveling in panic, all direction blind.

He would be lying if he said that he doesn't miss it all, that he doesn't want to go back home to the time he lived in. But despite Venti's claim to rule the vast expanse of time, there is no way to go back in time, and even if he could, it would be at the cost of Venti's life, which would invalidate entirely the original sacrifice. The butterfly effect to go back to his original time would be catastrophic.

Was his sacrifice really worth it? Venti will still die again someday; that's the nature of life.

“It is, now, because Venti is back and she's reborn. She'll die again someday, hopefully far in the future, when I'm long dead, but for now, the friend I loved so dearly, the Native Dragon who supports humanity with her very body, is reborn and renewed. Even if I miss everything I left behind, it is worth it, to know that Venti is still here.”

Silence, again. Something is still bothering Dylas, but the darkness that clouded him earlier seems to have dissipated. There is, deep in Leon's heart, a sense that he knows what might be bothering his taller friend there, because similar feelings are trying to stir in his own heart.

But his heart is bound by a promise he made centuries ago. No matter what feelings might stir or manifest there, he can never act upon them.

“Do you have any idea how much time has passed between each of us?” The question comes out of nowhere. “I can't quite figure out how long I was like that.”

“I imagine Arthur could tell you. I don't have any idea. I'm even more lost than you; this world looks different from the world I knew. Even the tower I slept in looks different.”

“Mine was reduced to utter ruins. Also, you're a lucky bastard, if you slept through it all.”

He has no memories of his own transformation. He remembers climbing the tower with the Earthmates (and his two familiars), getting into a specially-carved sarcophagus, and then the sound of chanting as the sarcophagus was sealed. He remembers the feeling of runes being pulled out of his body, before everything faded to white. The next thing he remembers is a groggy rousing in a runic veil of power, Frey's voice frantically passing to him what she thought was her final message to Venti, and then a runic tearing as the magic forcibly warped him away, dumping him to the ground in front of a wilted Ventuswill.

Venti's first words to him had been “Long time, no see, Leon. I see you've changed a bit.”

And then when he first beheld himself in a mirror, it had been something of a shock. His dark turquoise hair had silvered until it was a soft teal, a giant pair of fox ears arched over his head, and of course this obnoxious fox tail behind him. The tail annoyed him more than the ears did.

“Hey, Leon?”

“Hm?”

“Sometimes when I look at you, I see shadows on your shoulders. Shapes. What are they?”

“Ah, those are my familiars, Uno and Sano. They're foxes. Why do you think I've got fox ears and a tail?”

An expression of anger and annoyance crosses his face; “Okay, so Amber's got butterflies, you've got foxes, and Dolce's got puppets. Why am I a horse?”

He has no answer for that and simply turns to face outward, hoping maybe a little bit of meditation will calm his frazzled nerves. “When the sun comes up, this conversation between us never happened. Until then, if you have any concerns, I'll hear them and advise as best I can. And I promise, nothing you say here will be used against you in any teasing. After all, the conversation didn't happen, right?”

“Thanks but no thanks. I've said more than I ever cared to. Anything more, I want to speak with Venti first.”

“Hmm. Can you sleep on your feet?” (He doesn't exactly mean it as a horse joke, but Dylas takes it that way anyway.)

There is the subtlest sense of threat. “I should kick you for that.”

Minutes stretch into hours, and eventually, the sky deepens, then lightens and changes color, as the sun begins to rise. As its bright face begins to peep over the forest to the south, shadows lengthen and then shorten.

The doors that stands closed between the two Guardians creak and as they are pulled open and the doors themselves disappear into designated niches in the building. Volkanon, now wide awake and smartly dressed, looks at both of them.

“I am glad to see you still here. Lady Ventuswill has awakened and desires to speak with you both. She also requested to speak with Miss Frey, Miss Dolce and Miss Amber.”

A perfect opportunity. Leon nods briskly; “Dylas, you go speak with Venti. I'll go round up the ladies.”

The taller Guardian acquiesces silently, slipping through the doorway like wraith. Volkanon's face twists with consternation briefly, before he shrugs it off and returns to his duties.

Leon just shakes his head, closes up his fan, and heads outward, to collect the others.

Hopefully you can soothe his heart, Venti. He's a kind soul, and he's suffering right now. And sadly, he won't let me help him. I hope you can help him where I can't .

The sight that greets him as he leads the women into the castle in the daylight is a sweet and tender one. Dylas is standing next to Venti, embracing the dragon's great head. His hands are buried in the feathers around her face. (Memories flood Leon in that moment, of Venti demanding he alleviate an itch near her eyes, because she doesn't want to use her claws too close to her eyes.)

“Who would have guessed getting a new body would come with these annoyances?” Venti says in a light, airy voice. “Thank you, Dylas. I knew I could count on you. You still give good scratches.”

“Ven~!” Amber bounces toward the great dragon and clings to her. “You're really here! I was so sure it was all a dream!”

The other Guardians and Earthmate (who is bandaged and smelling strongly of healing ointment) gather in a loose cluster before the great dragon, and Dolce quietly peels Amber off of Venti's face.

“I'm relieved to see all five of you. Six, I should say. Hello, Pico.” The dragon blinks her eyes as the specter launches joyfully at her.

Frey steps forward. “Are you fully back, Venti? Is there more that I have to do? I don't ever want to do that again. That place was awful . Leon warned me, but I don't think he has any idea of just how bad that place is. Every floor was worse than the last. Increasing levels of Screw Frey In Particular.” She shakes her head vigorously. “Tell me you're back to your old self and that you're not going to die on me again.”

Venti laughs, a magical, musical laugh that fills the room with joy. “I haven't felt this good and this alive in a thousand years! I am indeed reborn, though I will likely die sooner than if I had reincarnated into a new hatchling. Some of my life has been cut short in that regard. I'm not sure how much time I do have, but it will be much longer than any of your lifetimes.” Her expression saddens. “I will have to say goodbye to each of you someday, but hopefully it will be after you have all lived long, full, rich lives. Lives I denied you before.”

Frey heaves a sigh with comic exaggeration. “Thank the gods… Not you; you weren't any help. Thank the other gods. I'm glad you're back, Venti. I missed you so much.”

The Guardians all step back to allow Frey to have time with Venti, and as they do so, Leon carefully positions himself in front of the door, in the center, to serve as a form of human blockade, looking out across the plaza. Out in the plaza, nearly all the villagers have begun to gather in the center of the flagstone, milling in confusion, waiting for someone to initiate something.

Forte approaches; “Leon, what's going on?”

“What do you think is going on?”

“Don't be coy with me! Vishnal banged on our door and yelled something about Lady Ventuswill. Is she… did she…”

He would dearly love to mess with Forte, as she's one of his favorite targets, but now is not the time. He nods briskly. “She appeared in the middle of the night. Frey returned from her ordeal very battered, so she spent the night in the clinic and we are letting her reunite with Ventuswill. When we're done, we will let each of you in to see her as well at least as long as she can handle it. She may still be a bit weak. If it's anything like what I felt like after being woken up… she'll need a few days.”

“So it's true, she's really back? Omigosh, I have to go tell Porco that it's true!” Margaret appears out of nowhere, bouncing excitedly. “He's in the kitchen, preparing to make her enough pancakes to last her a week. Oh this is so amazing!” With a bounce, the elf sprints off, scattering those around her.

Arthur, knocked aside by her passage, shakes his head and approaches Leon; “Lady Ventuswill is back? Is she well?”

“She says she feels great, but time will tell on that. I can't trust her words at face value. Unfortunately, I cannot let you in yet, not even you, Arthur. Sorry.”

“No, I understand. You're the first Guardian.”

Against his wishes, his ears twitch in annoyance. This kowtowing to him as the “first” of the Guardians has bothered him since he woke up. He is the oldest (physically) and most experienced of the four, but his status as being chronologically earlier than the others seems to be what takes precedence.

Even more irritating, he sees Arthur's eyes twinkle with amusement. Ah yes, he likes cute and fuzzy things, and my ears qualify as that.

“Dylas was not in his room this morning. Is he in there?”

“Yes. He is a Guardian as well. He has suffered a great deal and been displaced through time in order to save Venti; he has earned the right to spend time with her. Arthur, must I really remind you that my eyes are down here? It's distracting when you stare at my ears. Do you stare at Dylas like this too?”

“You must be really agitated, Leon. I've never seen your ears twitch like that.”

You're starting to piss me off, princey. Then again, I'm sleep-deprived as all hell, so I'm probably in a rare mood. He rubs his face vigorously. He really needs to go back to bed. But he wants his turn with Venti, to assuage his remaining fears.

One by one, or in tiny groups, each of the villagers comes up to him to confirm the news they heard, and one or two try to strain to look over his shoulder or around him into the room.

Doug comes up, on behalf of Blossom, and inquires as well. When Venti's status is confirmed to him, he looks down; “I still owe her an apology. Also, uh… is the nag in there? I don't see him.”

“It's adorable how much you and Dylas talk about each other. Yes, he's in with Venti and no that doesn't get you in any faster.”

The dwarf sputters and backs up several steps. “Look, I wanna see her, but I was kinda hoping you'd let Granny Blossom in earlier, since she's gotta mind the shop and all. And she's an elder and all and…”

“I don't make the rules, Doug. Why don't you make yourself comfortable and we'll let you know when you can visit her.”

By the time he's assured everyone in the plaza that they'll get their chance to greet and welcome Venti back, his exhaustion has taken it toll, and his entire body feels impossibly heavy. A light touch to his arm nearly startles him and he turns to see a small, slim figure at his side. Frey smiles at him and gestures over her shoulder.

“Venti is asking for you. She wants to speak to you personally and privately. After that, she says the rest of the village can come in, no more than six at a time, and to keep their visits short so she can rest when it's over. But she wants to speak to you.”

“Oh, good, I was getting really bored with door-guard duty. You'd think the butlers could handle this, but they're too busy being town-criers.”

Frey's eyes narrow briefly. “Are you okay, Leon? You… don't look very good.”

“I'm just sleep deprived. C'mon, you know I'm a long sleeper. You're the one who woke me up.”

She laughs, awkwardly; “I'd have assumed you had enough sleep already to last you a good few years. I guess you're just so used to sleeping that you can't get enough of it?”

A feeling is blooming in his heart, a dangerous one. He silently takes an invisible spear and pierces it, to deflate it. No. You are not permitted to exist. I am bound to a promise half a millennium in the past .

Volkanon, having finished other tasks, takes his place in the doorway and allows him to retreat inside, to meet up with his dearest, oldest friend.

Venti is sitting primly in her place, with her tail curled around her, its feathered tip swishing gently. She looks incredible, and in this moment, every painful thing he has endured from the beginning is worth it. Ventuswill is easily the most beautiful of the Native Dragons, and her open, honest personality shines in her eyes. He reveres and loves her more dearly than anything in the world.

“I've missed talking with you, Leon,” she says. “All these hundreds of years, I've missed your wonderful voice and your thought-provoking ideas. I've even missed your stupid teasing and tactless jokes. Now that it's all over, you're free and I'm no longer dying, I hope you'll stop by and debate with me again. Maybe it can be like old times again.”

“Not that you need me,” he replies with a grin. “You have Frey, and she's far feistier. I'm just a melancholic shade of what I used to be.”

Her face falls; “You Guardians have suffered horribly, haven't you? Dylas told me about last night. He said you talked him through an anxiety attack that nearly broke him.” Her expression softens. “You act like a troublemaker sometimes, but you have the kindest heart of anyone I know. You can't bear to watch someone suffer.”

“I suppose in a way we Guardians are a family. None of us have any real family left. Besides, I'd never hear the end of it from you if I didn't try to help him.”

Her eyes harden; “I'm going to give you the same lecture I gave each of the others. Your sacrifice broke my heart, Leon. I wanted to cry for months after you were gone. I never asked you to become a human sacrifice for my sake, and I was so lonely without you. I discontinued the use of dragon priests so that it would never happen again. I still hurt, thinking of what you went through for my sake. Worse, you set the precedent that the others followed. If you ever even think of doing something so asinine as sacrifice yourself for me again, I will eat you whole.”

He is touched, despite the fact that she is chewing him out. “Fear not, Lady Ventuswill. The consequences of my sin will be visited upon me sooner or later. I have been alive far longer than a human is supposed to be.”

“You know I don't want that. And I suspect you have suffered enough. Even now, you don't smile the way you used to. You are somehow still shackled to your duty as a dragon priest. Or perhaps to memories of a lover you left behind?”

His blood turns ice-cold at how close to the mark she has come (Maria was never his lover, but she is still a regret that shackles his heart), and he suppresses the urge to shudder. “I think you're mistaking my culture shock for something more.”

Ventuswill, the Divine Wind, the elder dragon of wind and god of time (by her own boast), thrusts her head close to him and her eyes bore into him.

“I don't believe you,” she says simply, but her expression is kind, open and affectionate. “The culture isn't that different, Leon. I watched over it. There is a sadness in you that was never there before. Or rather, there has been a sadness in you since you woke up, that wasn't there before you sacrificed yourself. You're my oldest friend, Leon. I have many wonderful friends, but I've known you the longest of any of them, and I know you're not yourself. Won't you tell me what's bothering you?”

A combination of panic, shame and embarrassment spiral up in his belly and he clamps down on a visceral urge to spill his guts to her.

“Talk to me, Leon. We are alone; no one will judge you for weakness. You're in pain too, and you won't tell anyone else. Surely you'll tell me? Or am I not your best friend anymore?”

He can't tell her everything, no matter what she implies, but if he doesn't give her something, she'll never let this go. “I've been in mourning, Venti. I needed to be strong for the others, but when I was alone, I grieved bitterly, agonizing that everything I've done was in vain.”

It is like the floodgates have burst open. Everything that he has been damming up in his chest, trying to seal away so as not to lose his composure, has shaken loose and floods forward. His eyes sting and he slams them shut, turning his face downward.

“I won't say how many nights I wept for you, but it was hard to not succumb to despair. I don't know if you understand how much I revere you, how dear to me you have always been, how hard it was to soldier on in your absence, knowing I gave up everything and it wasn't enough. Sometimes, it's just so bloody hard to be the strong one.”

To Venti's credit, she remains silent. Raising one hand to brush his eyes, to dash any tears that might have formed, he takes a bracing breath. He's already said too much, but there's no point in holding back now. Girding himself, he forces his eyes open and looks up at her.

“In the end, I had no hand in your salvation; it was all Frey. I did nothing. You'll have to forgive me if I am melancholic for a while. My only contribution in the end has been to prolong your life long enough for the Earthmates to develop rune spheres, and for Frey to be born. Sometimes I wonder how many lives I ruined in my selfish desire to save you. You aren't human; you serve a purpose to the world, and would have been reborn by now anyway.”

Venti's eyes are very kind; “A new wind dragon would have been born to take my place, yes. But it would not have been me. I would have been lost to the Forest of Beginnings. I'm sorry, Leon.” She lowers her head until it is just above the floor, in her version of a bow. “You must have been suffering for a long time. I want to remind you that I am endlessly grateful to have you back, no matter how small you think your contribution was. You are still very, very dear to me, and I love you.”

“This somber melancholy really doesn't become me at all, does it?” He wipes his eyes. “Seeing you now, alive and well, makes everything worth it.” He steps forward and reaches out his hand to touch her. “Don't worry about me, Venti. I'm horribly sleep-deprived right now. I'll be in a much better mood once I've gotten some sleep.”

She laughs softly; “You've always been a grouch when you don't get enough sleep. I remember how you scolded me on your very first day as my dragon priest because I woke you up before you were ready. The look on your father's face was priceless.”

His father. More grief, to be suppressed. I have no defenses at all anymore. I need a good long sleep. The problem is that sleeping is…

(Sleeping is how he got here. Granted, it was a spell, and a ceremony he willingly took part in. But even now, over and over, he finds himself, as he verges on the precipice of slumber, suddenly afraid to fall asleep, afraid that he will wake up again several hundred years in the future. It is a stupid fear, but one he cannot quite shake.)

He rubs his face wearily; “Now you've got me remembering how you used to let me climb on you when I was little. You were my favorite napping spot. I don't suppose you'd let me try that again, for old time's sake?”

She snorts loudly in laughter; “No, because you're not a cute little toddler anymore.” Then she pushes her face close to him, a silent invitation, and he takes her up on it, wrapping his arms around her great head in a tender, familial embrace. For just a moment, he allows himself to forget everything except how glorious this divine creature is.

“Thank you, Venti. Welcome home. I can't tell you how much I've missed you. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go get some sleep, before I start to do things that will embarrass me in the future. It's only fun when others get embarrassed, after all.”

“You can go out the back door.” Venti gestures with her tail to the door behind her. “It's a shorter walk to the inn if you go that way. You have my permission, just this once. Just be mindful of the fields; Frey doesn't like it when her crops get stepped on. It sounds like she's tending the fields right now anyway, so she'll tell you.”

Part of him thinks it would be best to simply go out the front door like a normal person, but Venti has given him permission to use a door that only Frey is allowed to use. He is curious about the fields she has developed. Giving Venti a respectful bow in parting, he takes advantage of her permission and exits the building through the back door.

Sprawling out before him, as wide as the castle itself, are rich farmland fields bulging with crops and flowers. In among them, he spies the spry figure of the Earthmate sowing nutrients into the soil, humming as she does so.

She's still bandaged up from her fight with whatever hellish monster barred her path last night, but she's happily tending the earth, collecting rune energy and spreading the earthly blessing of her kind.

With his defenses in tatters, he finds himself longing for something he won't allow himself to have. Flirting is all well and good, friendship is delightful, but passion, lust and desire have been making it hard for him to enjoy any of it. It doesn't help that Frey is outrageously cute, to the point where even he can barely resist her charms.

She looks up, as if sensing his presence, and her eyes lock on him. “Oh, hi. Did Venti kick you out? It's rare to see anyone here except whichever butler is on shipping duty.”

“No, she told me I could use this as a shortcut to get back to the inn, as I'm on the verge of collapse. I thought I'd take advantage of the permission. Don't mind me. Just passing through.”

“You're not much of a vegetable person, are you?” She leans on her farming tool and focuses on him. She is distracting him from his task of getting home and back to his bed. Worse still, it is working.

“Never been much of an 'eat-your-veggies' guy, no. My mother used to harass me about it all the time when I was yea-high. I can appreciate an attractive piece of produce, but I'm not a fan of eating them, especially raw.”

He takes a step, and his leg buckles, causing him to stumble to his knees, nearly pitching face first into the dirt. In a flash, Frey is beside him. “Are you all right?! C'mon, let's get you to Dr. Jones.”

“No, I'm fine. I'm just exhausted, and I stepped on a branch. I need to get to bed. I should have gone the long way, I'd probably be home by now, but I got sidetracked watching you.”

A satisfying crimson blush flowers across her face as she realizes what he's saying. “Leon! At a time like this!”

“Would you expect anything else of me?” He steadies himself. His limbs are so incredibly leaden right now. “Now, you don't have to walk me home, but if you insist on taking a walk in the same direction as me, I won't stop you.”

She pulls off one glove, sticks two fingers into her mouth, and emits a loud, piercing whistle. “Silver!”

What?

The doorway of one of the barns nearby bursts open and a silver wolf lopes out to her side.

“I'm not riding your pet, Frey. I can walk just fine.”

“Be that as it may, he's going to help make sure you get home without falling again. Prove to me that my worry is unfounded and I'll send him back to the barn.” She grins at him, that adorably challenging grin.

She is absolutely nothing like Maria. And yet he… No! He clamps down viscerally on the thoughts trying to manifest in his mind. I'm too damned tired for this.

The bluish wolf sidles up to him, and to appease Frey, he rests a hand on the creature's shoulders. The wolf's fur is shimmery and soft; he has been brushed recently and is clearly well-cared-for, and he looks at Leon with calm eyes. Frey takes her position on Leon's other side, and cheerfully gestures for a path for him to tread through the field.

“Careful, that soil's very worn out and loose. Don't want you twisting an ankle.”

She chatters at him as they walk through a narrow alley and emerge onto the street, turning toward the inn. The street is empty except for a few Norad guards milling around near the airship port. Everyone must be giving Venti her due greetings. And knowing Venti, she's enjoying every moment of it.

“You saved a god, Frey, and you're toiling in the dirt mere hours later. I want so badly to tease you about it, but I'm too impressed, and too tired, to think of anything to say, except that you're just such an Earthmate.”

“I saved my best friend, is what I did. I did what you would've done centuries ago if you'd had the wherewithal to do so, right?”

“I suppose when you put it that way… You're very much like a modern dragon priest, in that regard. I'm just sorry none of us could accompany you through that.”

“Yeah, no, that place was pure hell. I could barely keep myself alive. I couldn't even take Silver.”

The door to the inn opens before them, and Xiao Pai appears, agape.

“Leon! Where were you? Are you hurt?”

“It seems Lady Ventuswill appeared abruptly in the middle of the night, so I had to go to her, yes?” He mimics her odd speech pattern to put her at ease. “And now, having missed my required eight-to-ten hours of sleep, I am too wobbly to be trusted to walk myself home, so Frey has to babysit my sorry tail. It is a very nice tail, though, yes?”

Pointedly ignoring him, Xiao Pai takes his arm, and looks at Frey with wide eyes; “I will look after him for you, yes?”

“Thank you, Xiao Pai. I have a typhoon to prepare for. I'll stop by later. See ya! Leon, make sure you get some rest!” She hops onto the back of her silver wolf and dashes back to her farm.

Xiao Pai looks at him; “It seems you need some help, Leon, yes? Come with me.”

Dylas is dreadfully tired. He has been through more emotional turmoil in the past few hours than he has allowed of himself in a very long time, since the initial shock of losing Venti. Coupled with a sleepless night, and a sudden panic attack, and he has so little energy left that the walk from the castle to his home above Porcoline's Kitchen is dreadfully long and arduous. Mercifully, Doug leaves him alone when he passes by the dwarf, attending to old Granny Blossom, on his way home.

Meeting with Venti had gone a long way to soothing his remaining fears.

“You look terrible, Dylas. Did you not sleep at all?”

“No, sorry, I couldn't sleep.”

“Oh dear, that's bad. You're so gruff anyway and when you're short on sleep, you become a terrible grouch. But it's good to see you anyway, bags under your eyes and all.”

“I… I missed you, Venti.” His voice breaks. “Damn it all, you're still the best friend I've ever had, and you were dead. What am I supposed to do without you?”

“I suppose I shall have to take you fishing to make it up to you. By the way, have I told you how adorable these new features you have are? The tail in particular is cute. I've always said that humans are missing out, not having tails.”

“Sh-shut up, Venti. Don't you start in on the whole calling me a horse thing too.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I need to ask you something.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“When I became a Guardian, I was supposed to just sleep, motionlessly, for however long it took. I guess it was a couple hundred years? But… I didn't. The runes twisted me into a monster. I wasn't myself, but I was awake enough to know what was going on for a while.”

“Yes, I know about that. It happened to all four of you. It seems that Etherlink has some unpleasant side-effects after a time. All four of you were permanently altered by the spells, too. I can't reverse that, if you're about to ask me to. I'm afraid you're going to have the ears and tail for the rest of your life.”

“It won't happen again, will it? The transformation? Sometimes I feel Thunderbolt's rage, and… Venti, it scares me. I have a home now, for the first time in forever. I have people I care about. I don't want to hurt them, and I don't want to leave them behind.”

Her great head lowers and moves toward him. Her expressive eyes are tender and kind; “You don't know how happy it makes me to hear you say those words, Dylas. Your isolation from your peers always made me sad. As for this Thunderbolt business, you're safe. You were fused with a wandering runic spirit, but Frey broke that when she unsealed you. You may be haunted by a horse spirit, but without Etherlink, that's all it is . Despite the cute horse ears and tail, you really are just a human.”

His limbs feel heavy with relief; “Oh thank god… I had these horrible dark thoughts last night, and they scared the heck out of me. I started thinking I should leave entirely, because I'm a threat to everyone. I don't know what I would've done if Leon hadn't talked me through it. I feel bad, because he did all of that for me even after I told him off and said I didn't trust him.”

“Leon is a very kind and caring man at heart, for all that he pushes buttons for fun. He must have sensed your pain. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, even though I was right here.”

“Not your fault, Venti. You must've been through hell as well. If he calls me a horse again, I'm going to deck him, though. Stupid fox-man.” He heaves a sigh, and then reaches out to touch her face. “I can't tell you how much I've missed you, Venti. I would love to go fishing with you again. Can you leave here to do that? Unfortunately, the fishing around here isn't very good anymore; you need to venture outside the town.”

“I'm not sure yet. I should be able to, though right now I still feel a bit weak and uncomfortable in this new body. But we'll take a fishing trip someday, that I promise you. I owe you. It's the least I can do, after everything you've done for me. However, if I may impose upon you one more time…?” She tilts her head and leans against his hand. “I've got this really irritating itch…”

He shakes himself awake, having wandered back down a memory lane in his mind. If ever there was the concern that Venti wasn't as important to him anymore as she once was, that fear is hereby allayed; he loves her every bit as much as he ever did, and he needs her as much as ever. In her absence, he turned to his other friends for comfort and to feel human, but in the end, he still needs Venti, in the same way that other people need family or lovers. She is as much a part of his life and identity as anything else. It still rankles that she tried to take that away from him after Frey broke the spell, but he understands why she did it, and knowing that it broke her heart to seal his memories in an attempt to prevent him from sacrificing himself again, he cannot be angry with her.

His feet have taken him all the way to the door of the restaurant, and he has stopped, because suddenly he is so tired, he doesn't want to move. He can hear movement inside, and can smell that Porcoline is already busy in the kitchen. The cloying smell of dough and honey wafts into his nostrils. He can also hear Margaret barking at the chef.

“It's not like you to hesitate, Dylas. Don't tell me they've locked you out.” A voice behind him startles him, and he turns.

Who knew he'd one day call a smallish, mild-mannered, bespectacled bookworm Prince of Norad—a descendant of the king who sealed him in the Water Temple—friend, let alone family. But Arthur has become someone he can trust to maintain a level head and a far-seeing outlook, alongside a calm, reassuring demeanor and a surprisingly soothing voice. Mismatched as they are, the three young adults Porcoline took in have bonded into a makeshift family, and it has had a powerful healing effect on Dylas.

The prince's brow folds up slightly; “Dylas, can I ask you something? Is Ventuswill still taking runes from you Guardians?”

“Huh?” He shakes himself awake again. “No, that's not possible. Why?”

“Because I've never seen you look this listless and exhausted, and the other three Guardians are just as bad. Illuminata had to carry Amber home on her back, and I saw Dolce being supported by Nancy and Jones as they left the castle. Even Leon looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over. I swear he was standing by virtue of sheer willpower and stubbornness. All four of you are more exhausted than I've ever seen any of you. You can't blame me for finding a commonality in that, can you?”

“We're all sleep deprived. None of us could sleep last night. That's all it is. We're not Guardians anymore. We don't support her with runes anymore.”

Arthur looks unconvinced; “You're sure about that? You're not quite yourself right now.”

“You know I'm bad with words. I gave my life to save her, and it didn't work, but now she's back. Think about that. I can't express how much it means to me that she's finally home. There's never been anything in the world so important as Ventuswill. It still doesn't feel real.”

“I'm just worried that you four are still somehow supporting her with your own life force. But if you're sure that it's just sleep deprivation…?”

“Yeah, no, I can't blame you for thinking that, but it really is just sleep deprivation and relief that she's back. The Etherlink spell is completely broken. Venti told me so herself.”

“All right, I'll trust you. So, are you locked out?”

“No… I'm getting up the energy to go in there. I can hear them. You know how Porco gets when he's in a cooking frenzy. I can barely walk; dealing with him in that mood will likely buckle me.”

“If you lean on me, I can escort you to your room and deflect Porcoline if he tries to sidetrack you. Or, if you'd rather, you can simply collapse and pass out, that will get the message across.” The quiet prince reaches out and grasps Dylas by the wrist, drawing his arm across his shoulders to give him some physical support.

“Can you do me another favor? I want to say something to the three of you before I go to bed. I don't know how long this courage will last me, so I should say it now. Can you help me get their attention? You know how Porco gets.”

“Of course.” Arthur pulls the door open and the two of them step into the building together.

“Dylas, there you are! I was starting to wonder!” Porcoline's voice comes winging through the air to them. “I need you to give me a…” He trails off as he looks over at them, and his eyes widen. “Are you all right, Dylas? Are you injured? Meggy, darling, maybe you should go get Dr. Jones?”

“I'm not injured, I'm just exhausted. I haven't slept for two nights now, and I can barely walk.”

The chef may be portly and vain but he is also extremely intelligent and intuitive; “All right. Go get some sleep; I'll need your help tomorrow.”

“Before I go, I need to say something to you all.” He girds himself. He's wanted to say these words forever, but has never had the courage to put his heart out there. “When I first came here, I was nothing at all. I had no idea what I was doing here, or what I was going to do with myself. None of you knew anything about me either, except that Frey had found me in the Water Ruins, as a rampaging beast. Yet you took me in, gave me a home, a living, and a reason to live. I never had a family. The only friend I ever had was Venti. I had no concept of the value of my own life.”

The silence is comfortable. Margaret's eyes are sparkling and shimmering with unshed tears, and Porcoline looks remarkably serene.

“I guess what I'm trying to say is, thank you for becoming my family. You had no reason to trust me, since I was a monster, but… I have no way to repay your kindness, so all I can do is say thank you.”

“Monster?” Porcoline says dismissively. “There's no need to call yourself that, Dylas. I happen to be an excellent judge of character, and I knew you to be an upstanding young man who was just down on his luck. Your manners are still a bit rough, but you've proven to be a good investment. No more of this calling yourself a monster, all right? Now go to bed, before we have to clean you off the floor.”

I don't deserve any of them. His eyes sting with tears he doesn't want to shed, and his knees are buckling on him from sheer fatigue. His heart is so full of emotion. “Thanks, Porco. I'm sorry I'm useless to you today, but give me time to catch up on sleep.”

“And on that note,” Arthur says genially, “let's get you where you need to be, because you're getting a bit heavy for me to hold up.”

Margaret bounces over and throws her arms around Dylas and Arthur both; “I love you idiots so much! I'm so glad to have you as part of my family!”

That proves to be the final straw; his knees give way completely and he collapses to a heap on the floor, taking Arthur and Margaret with him.

“Thanks, Margaret. Now you get to help me carry him.” Arthur's voice, heavy with annoyance, is the last thing Dylas hears before he blacks out from exhaustion.