Fortunately, though the injured man had not gone very far. Nor did he go with much stealth. Zalin had left a trail of disarray through the infirmary halls. A trail that his assigned mender followed, and once again should have been more shocked to see the High Cleric’s Office lit up in an orange glow.

Stowing himself for confronting a Superior officer the mender reminded himself of the rank of the infirmary over the rank of the Sunguard.

Pushing into the office his resolve melted with the sight of the man. White robes and sterile wraps covered the phantom visage of a proud commander. Gently bobbing stars furthered the ghastly illusion with their weak light.  “Sir you should be resting. I know you and the High Cleric where close, but I have to insist.”

Zalin’s was hovering over a book stand, pouring over an ancient text. Shifting his gaze to the intruder he gave him an icy glance before focusing back on his work. 

“Sentinel Sir, I have to insist you need rest to heal. How many times have you chastised your own men for doing just this?” Stepping further into the office the Dawnmender started to shiver. It was cold.

This time Zalin didn’t even move his head in response. “Then bring my bed here. There is too much work to sleep.”

“Sir, we can’t do that, we can bring whatever you need to your room, but you really must stay there.”

Zalin pounded on the book stand sending out a jolt through the air that showed more strength then his fragile form should have possessed. “AND have to wait on you people? There is too much to be done, I will not rest until she is safe, until she is back.”

“Sir, please…”

“Another word and it will be insubordination. Am I understood?”

Pushing down a chilled breath the Dawnmender advanced again. He needed to do something or Zalin would reopen his wounds again, if he  hadn’t already. “Please Sir. I need you to understand that we are all doing what we can. I have no doubt the Suncasters are hard at work deciphering everything that took place over there. But from your state… over 70 percent of your body is covered in shadow burns. The fact that you are even still alive is a miracle!” 

Miracle….

     An act of the divine...  

           An event that can’t be explained…  

                     His voice was low, a whisper muttered only for himself. “I am alive because she made a choice…” Bandaged knuckles growing white. As his violet eyes began to burn with wetness. “She is gone, because I made a choice.” The room grew even colder. The heat of his breath showing in the light of floating suns.

“She would want you to rest.”

         She would want…

“Please. Sir, go back to the infir..”  The Emberward’s plea fell silent. His request died in the frigid air along with the rest of his voice. Brilliant streaks of arcane light flashed just under the oathsworn’s chin before a sense of constriction coiled throughout his body. 

The Sentinel was unmoved by his guest’s increasingly panicked movements. “It wasn’t a miracle, it was spell.” Returning to the book stand before him he reached for the next weathered tome. As he pushed his hand forward his eyes fell back to the lines of drawn ink. Memories flashing of just nights ago.

They had marked one another with intricate runes and symbols, all of which told the tale of whispered promises and long-awaited love. Letting go of his breath he released the spell. The silence of the office vanished with the crash of something heavy hitting the stone floor. 

“And any spell, even a Tel’dorei deal is still magic, it has flaws and ways to reverse it. A life for a life. My future, for ours…”