Grasping the jutted stones on the cave wall for support, Midhir dragged himself towards the dungeon. “It’s not done yet.” His voice was but a whisper.

  The Enforcer clenched her fists before whirling around to follow him. “Allow me to heal your wounds, your highness.”

  He shook his head. “Not now.” The sudden and intense pain that came with healing resonances wasn’t something he could deal with right now, and his bruised leg and twisted ankle was hardly an emergency. It could wait until this was wrapped up. His gaze turned to the scattered fighting still ongoing. “Please aid Arwen with closing… whatever this is.” He gestured towards the cave that was now behind them. This connection needed to be severed as soon as possible.

  Enforcer Aoidh scowled. Her lips formed a thin line as she nodded and hurried towards Arwen.

  “Captain Marr!” Midhir didn’t need to raise his voice much at all for her to notice him.

  She rushed to his side, bloody sword in hand. She saluted him with a swift bow. “Your highness, our healers will-“

  “I’m fine.” He cut her off. “Arwen and the Enforcer will sever this connection. Make sure the cultists who yet live are captured.”

  “Yes, sire.” She raised her left hand and snapped her fingers. The sound echoed, perhaps a little too loudly. A pair of the honour guard who were guarding Arwen rushed over. “Escort his highness to the medical ward.”

  “I’m-“

  “I know you’re fine, your highness,” she sharply spoke. “But you are also in no state to fight and do require rest.”

  He hated to admit it, but she was right. He was in no state to fight. “Very well.”

  No number of calming teas or soothing concoctions could reduce the pain caused by healing resonances, as proven by the wails escaping the patients lips in the infirmary.

  “Please rest for the next couple of days, your highness.” Lady Amelia Haarkos said as she gave him a glass of water. “I have healed your physical wounds, but the process is quite draining.” Her brown eyes looked at him with compassion as she took the empty glass back and placed it on the drawer by his bedside.

  “Thank you, but there are matters that require my attention.” Midhir motioned to get up.

  She placed her hand on his shoulder. Her grasp, while gentle, was as firm as iron. “Your highness,” her voice was perfectly serene and calm, but also stern. “Derwen Hold can survive while you sleep. The crisis is over, the attackers has been subdued. Rest now,” her voice softened, a flicker of worry crossing her otherwise composed expression “So you can fight when the time comes once again.”

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  * * *

  Circe looked upon the seemingly endless expanse of white sands before her. The inverted lake’s surface was calm above her. Above, the inverted lake lay still, its surface undisturbed. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional flap of her raven companion’s wings.

  “This place shouldn’t exist anymore.” Her words shattered the silence.

  “Indeed, yet he came here twice, once to save Bareon, once to allow the shield to fall once more.” The raven’s words echoed in her mind as it cawed.

  She bent down, taking a handful of sand, then let the sand flow between her fingers. “I wonder…” she whispered. “I talked with him then, but I didn’t realise the altar had sunk to such depths.”

  “Where was it, when they first built it?”

  “Legends say it was atop a great tower that was the heart of the city.” She shrugged. “Archaeological findings say it was at surface level and would have been slightly north of the lord’s mansion now, just outside the current Bareon’s city wall.”

  The raven made an odd noise. Was that a scoff? “What archaeological findings? No one ever found this place but those kids and you.”

  Circe’s lips curled up. “The Alchemists’.” She replied with a mischievous voice. “Before they fell to the trap of seeking immortality, and endless power. They were a good bunch you know.”

  The raven hopped a few steps forward, stretching its wings. “I don’t know.” It replied, shooting her an odd glance. “So they found this place, then they figured out where the altar was beforehand. How did it fall so far down though?”

  Circe pursed her lips. “I suppose the world roots continue to grow.” She tilted her head as a faint shape finally entered their view in the distance. “The altar is built on a large root. One wide enough to hold the altar and the rocks around it, and one with plenty of power flowing through it, so drawing a little power won’t disturb the balance of somewhere else.”

  They walked in silence for a while. The raven seemed worried, shooting constant glances to the body of water hanging above them like an executioners sword.

  She smoothed the skirt of her dress. Her companion wasn’t the only uneasy one of the two. It had been a long time since she came across something she didn’t understand. And the inverted lake hanging above them was one such thing. A spell cast so long ago, she couldn’t even read the traces it left behind. A feat she thought should be impossible – in more ways than one.

  “What will you do a year from now?”

  The raven’s words startled her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That’s the time you promised him, no?” With a strong couple of flaps of its wings, it flew up, landing on one of the rocks surrounding the altar. “What will you do once his sight is restored?”

  Circe ran her hand along the symbols etched on the rocks. “Who knows?” She muttered, surprised at the dread she felt.

  “You know what will happen to him if he lives.”

  “No one can survive that for more than a few days.”

  “No one was cursed with true sight before. It was only glimpses.”

  Even glimpses killed them. He would be no different. He was only human, after all.

  “What if he survives?” Her companion insisted.

  “You know what happens if he survives.” She hissed. “And you know what I must do then. Why ask?”

  The raven tilted its head. Their gazes met, though as usual, it was impossible to read its emotions. “Because if you could do what must be done, you would have done it the moment his sight was restored.” It looked up, at the inverted lake. “Has the bell tolled, old friend?”

  She didn’t answer.