The man wore a regal black overcoat, buttoned and embroidered with silver. Over the top, he was wrapped in a charcoal cloak. Karlar said something to him and he gave a throaty laugh in response. They were locked in deep conversation as they made for the seating area.

Shale took him in bit by bit. His boots were black. His gloves were black. Everything about the man was black. Even the face beneath his hood was framed by thick black hair and his square jaw was speckled by a smattering of dark stubble.

Certainly, he was a comely man, but he hardly seemed like a holy icon. He could've been any blacksmith or labourer pulled from the streets. He didn't carry the same radiant light she'd seen in the Kersaja.

Her uncle set down his hood and approached the hearth. He stirred the logs with a poker, encouraging the flames to grow. "I hear that you all caught some trouble in Yern." His accent rolled off the tongue like other Eloronians, but his was flecked with more gravel than the ones she'd heard previously.

"We were attacked in the woods," Ezil said. "They tried to take the satchel."

"But you successfully fended them off."

"We did. We killed three of them."

"I am pleased to hear it. Your training is paying off. And now, you have arrived here, safe and sound." He rested the poker back against the wall. "All is well."

"I apologise for our lateness," Karlar said.

"Your apology is not accepted," Daziran said, turning to regard him. "Because it is not necessary, my friend. You may be a man of the Gods, but last I checked, you had no sway over the course of the winds. Although, I must admit, the timing is unfortunate, as it does alter my plans somewhat."

"How so?" Ezil asked.

"Because I informed the others to arrive tonight too, under the cover of celebration. I'd hoped you all would arrive a few days early, so that we could do something nice around the city. After so long at sea, it seems cruel to expect you to get straight to business."

"It's less than ideal," Karlar said, "But we live in less than ideal times."

"True words," Daziran said.

"And it wasn't just the winds that held us back either," Ezil said, trying to contain a laugh. "We also met a bit of resistance in Silverwood."

Shale cringed, feeling embarrassed to think back to how emotionally she'd reacted back in The Blackbird Inn.

"So Karlar has informed me." Daziran took them in, one by one, until his eyes finally found Shale. Eleven, even his eyes were the colour of dark ash. "Could I ask you, my friends, to give me just a few moments of privacy? I'd like to catch up with my niece."

"Of course," Karlar said.

"It's not like we were just beginning to get comfy," Ezil said before hopping up.

Daziran slumped in Bandor's vacant chair after the others had crossed out of earshot. His face glowed crimson from the light of the flames as he ran his hands through his thick mane. He looked at Shale again. "You are the very image of your mother, you know?"

She accepted the comment with a tight-lipped courtesy. What was she supposed to say to that? Thank you?

The thing about anger was that it took energy to hold onto. Shale thought she'd let hers go while at sea, but now, in sight of the man himself, she found traces of resentment left over. The questions she'd put aside for a few weeks all came tumbling back like forgotten supplies stuffed into an overstocked cupboard.

She reflected back on all those wasted years, trapped within the monastery. Why had he just abandoned her?

Frowning, he analysed her face, as if reading her thoughts. "You know, I never wanted to-"

"How did my parents die?"

He baulked, visibly taken aback.

She even managed to surprise herself. She'd always pictured asking that question in a subtler way, but there it was, out in the open.

"So you know the truth?" he said.

"It's the only thing that makes sense, isn't it? I always believed that it was them who left me in Silverwood, but if it was you, then that has to mean they're dead." Deep down, she knew that's why she'd gotten so angry at Ezil back at The Blackbird Inn. If she accepted what the Orian girl was telling her, then it took away her secret hope of living parents. It was a fool's hope anyway.

"I suppose we'll begin there then." He folded his fingers together. "I was living in Erintol when a carrier brought news to me of an attack in Mistpeak."

"Mistpeak?"

"Have you heard of the Five Pillars?"

"Yes, those are the mountains across from Starstone, right?"

"That's right. Mistpeak is one of several villages in those mountains. That's where you lived with your parents. I flew there as quickly as possible, but days had passed between the attack, the carrier's message, and my eventual arrival. By the time I landed, the town was already a memory." As his eyes grew distant, they mirrored the crackling flames in the hearth. "It was an awful scene. There were bodies littered everywhere. I could see no survivors."

Shale gazed at the ground. She always understood why she never had any memories from her early childhood. Plenty of people simply forgot that time in their life. But how could she forget something so traumatic as an entire town being butchered? "My parents..."

"I buried them, behind your home."

"What about me?"

"You weren't with them. Nor were you among the slew of bodies in the village. I searched every building, fearing the worst. It wasn't until my third pass through your home that I heard a sound, coming from the floor. There was a bunker. It was hidden, seamless against the floorboards. It took a while to pry it open, but when I did I found a cramped crawlspace. You were inside. You were staring up at me, skinny, malnourished, dirty-faced, and clinging to your satchel like it was salvation."

There was a shadow of a memory at his description. She could almost imagine the dark, dusty box, barely big enough for a small child to stretch their arms.

She thought she could remember having to subsist off a couple of water skins, taking small mouthfuls when she absolutely needed to, and above all, keeping quiet. The little girl thought she might be stuck there forever, until she heard footsteps from above and a gruff voice, calling her name. Too weak to speak, she whimpered. Eventually, the footsteps quickened and the floorboards creaked open. At first there was only a blinding light, but after that settled there was an angular face on the other side.

Was that a true memory? Or was her imagination just filling in the blanks? It did seem quite vivid.

"What happened after that?" she asked.

"I took you to Druft to see Varzic Kavori."

"Varzic Kavori?"

"My and your mother's father. Your grandfather. I told him what had happened in Mistpeak while you washed, ate and drank your fill. You hadn't uttered a single word since I found you, so I had no idea what'd happened. My father explained everything to me that night. He told me what his life's work had been for, why he'd dedicated it to locating and training Soulbonders."

"What did he tell you?"

"That the Shaedri were responsible for the attack. That the old enemy was back in our realm and they were hunting you. I wanted to take you to Erintol, where my wife and I could protect you and raise you with our daughter."

"Then why didn't you?" She meant to ask her question angrily, but a strained, emotional crack found its way into her voice.

"Because he told me there were forces even Dragonbonders couldn't protect you from. You were much safer to be hidden and divorced from the names Etaria and Kavori. You had to simply become Shale."

She leaned back in her chair, digesting the words. Could it be true? Was this grandfather the correct person to direct her anger towards? No, she wouldn't let Daziran off that easily. He still had things to answer for.

"So you decided to just dump me in another greatland? In a Hekkari monastery?"

"I knew the Hekkari would take you in." He shrugged. "I may not like a lot of what they do, but they never see children go hungry if they can help it. The SanMother I left you with was very kind. I knew she'd nurture you as if you were her own. I explained to her what you were and I explained that since what'd happened in Mistpeak, something had happened to your link. It was damaged somehow. But if left untended, it had potential to return. So I told her some practises that might help you forget."

Another blurry memory passed through Shale's head. She had this image of being in Felda's chamber and going through visualisation techniques, similar to those she did with Ezil and Bandor, except these were focused on blocking pathways instead of opening them up.

"SanMother Felda died a few years later," Shale said.

Daziran straightened and gazed into the flames. "I'm sorry to hear that. She was old, yes, but seemed in fine health. Sad."

"Well her lessons stuck. I haven't done magic since."

"Did she ever pass on my message?"

"Message? What message?"

"Perhaps it was something she wanted to share with you when you were a little older and could appreciate it more, but fate never gave her the opportunity. I had to be vague. I can't remember the exact wording, but the gist of it was this: 'Although you might feel alone and resent my decision, know that I had to do this, Shale. There was no other way. Always know that somewhere out in the world, you have a family that loves you.'"

Something chipped away at the cold ice that had always been inside her. Even though it was tiresome, she'd come to rely on anger throughout so much of her life, to keep afloat through the bad times. It was easier to be angry than miserable. Part of her wanted to hold onto it, to call him a liar, but he spoke with such raw pain and sincerity that she did believe him.

He never wanted to leave her. It was the truth. There was genuine regret there. He wanted to adopt her, but her grandfather, Varzic, convinced him to hide her away. So Daziran gave her to Felda, who really had been like a mother in those early years. It was simple bad luck that Zeera had been next in line to take over.

"Why did they attack my parents? What do they want from me?"

"The Shaedri? Well that's the key question. The others will be here to-"

"Others?"

"Just old friends."

"More people like us?"

"More people like us." He moved to the edge of his chair. "They'll be here tonight. I'll explain the rest of it when everyone arrives. It's something that we all need to hear together."

Shale nodded, numbly, no longer sure how she felt toward her uncle.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's just a lot. Thanks for coming back for me... eventually."

"Don't thank me. Were it up to me, you'd have stayed in Silverwood for the rest of your days, blissfully unaware, because it'd mean never involving you in this. But a very selfish part of me is glad, because I get to see my niece again." He offered her a smile.

Although it took some effort, she managed a small one in return.

"Now, you should make yourself comfortable for the time being." He rose up. "Try some of the dragon's milk. Your mother so loved it. You were very young when we first crossed the Arinoa, so I'm sure Elorona will be as good as a new experience."

"Much of it has been."

"You've seen nothing yet." Her uncle inclined his head, then retreated back to the bar, where he and Karlar commenced their prior conversation.