Ursa's heart no longer felt like part of his body. It hovered in the space above his empty chest, before his breath returned to a shallow rhythm. Piglet was the Maddening Witch. His memories seemingly forgotten, his power not yet understood; the man who incited the fall of Hofingrad was standing wide-eyed in a stream, fearful that he'd lose his footing.

"Ursa, can you hold me steady?"

Hen sensed his reluctance, and offered her hand in his place.

The mountain stream was not deep, but in the dark, and on the slippery pebbles, Delph had become afraid. His wrists, too, were aching from the cold, and the water only served to chill him further.

"As before?" he confirmed with Mistress Hen.

"Large enough that someone could swim through, and you must keep it open. These doors that you find, there's often a way through to the other side. I'll go and check where it leads to, and if it's safe, I'll come back for the rest of you to follow."

"No," said Lyre, "Not you. I'll be faster. Hurry Master Delph and work your magic, there isn't time."

Delph ran his hand through the water, a string of words spilling from his lips. A door was 'found' and opened. Ursa watched him, his brow furrowing in the dim moonlight as he focused on making it wider, unaware of what his actions signified. A skill that took Pike two decades to master had been relearned in two days.

How long until the rest came back to him? 

Lyre climbed into the water, readying herself to dive into the portal as soon there was room. As ready as she was, she was not prepared for what came through it from the other side.

"A demon!" cried Hen.

"No," corrected Ursa, sobered by the sight, "An octopus."

Eight long and slimy tentacles reached out into the stream; its large, gelatinous head carried through on its curious expedition to Velmund Drum.

"Ursa, look!" cried Delph excitedly, "Is this not what we spoke of..?"

"Hush!" cautioned Lyre, "You there, Survivor, push it back through so Master Strahl can close the door."

Ursa stood defiantly on the bank, with no intention of touching the blubbering mass now propelling itself downstream.

"It doesn't matter," reasoned Hen, "Close it anyway and make another. Try and think of a safe and quiet water, perhaps the mind crafts doors through thought?"

Delph wasn't sure what she meant, but the panicked looks on the faces of those around him were enough of an impetus for him to seal the first and try again. Calm water. It appeared in his thoughts as he muttered the words and opened another door. Lyre stepped back, waiting to see if anything would exit before she dared to enter.

"I think it's safe," she said, "Be ready for my signal to move, they're almost upon us!"

Just wide enough that she could squeeze through it, Lyre swam into the portal as though swallowed by the jaws of a whale; her body disappearing as it inched into the velvet water.

"Keep it open," reminded Hen.

Delph's hands remained in the water, his scars becoming unbearably painful, but too frightened to move lest the door should accidentally close. It was less than a minute before an uncertain looking Lyre re-emerged on the mountainside.

"It's... you know what, it's fine!" she declared, "Mistress Hen, take my hand and we'll go through together. Then Survivor you're next, and Delph should be last. Be quick, all of you. We'll still need to run on the other side."

The mysterious rift shimmered in the water. True to her word, Lyre helped Mistress Hen down into the stream and held her fingers tightly.

"Quickly, okay?" she cautioned, her piercing gaze a warning not to tarry.

Delph nodded, and in a flash, the women were gone.

"Go, Ursa! I'll be right behind you!"

Ursa took a breath, and a seat on the bank. He watched as Piglet stood there shivering.

"But your brother is coming," said Ursa, "Not to mention, the others. Don't you want to meet the Warlock?"

"Ursa! You said it yourself, he thinks me the witch! As much as I wish to see Fiepet, I cannot allow the Warlock to catch me."

"If you are not the witch," tested Ursa, "Then what would you have to be afraid of? No, that isn't right. If you are the witch, then wouldn't you want to stay and meet your husband?"

"Please Ursa, this isn't funny."

"It's not... Piglet. It's anything but."

Delph could see it again in his eyes. The hatred.

"It isn't me!" cried Delph, "It's not! My name is Delphin Strahl, Ursa! I come from Grunterbad, not this fucking Madning Isle! And as desperate as I am to see my brother, even now I am scared! I'm scared that he won't be able to help me; that a dangerous man is coming to find me! Please! Please just let us get out of here first!"

His eyes were pleading, shining like glass and shaking in fear. They were just as Ursa had always hoped to see them. But it wasn't right. Not until he remembered would it be enough. This wasn't the witch, not yet; the evil truth of his character lay dormant beneath an affable facade... a wolf in piglet's clothing.

Without another word, Ursa jumped into the water and swam through the portal. A branch broke underfoot in the distance, and Delph dived in after him, the tears on his face washed clean by the currents. He broke through to the other side, the sage-like water brushing against his skin, a pair of legs thrashing wildly above him.

Delph rushed up to the surface, gasping for breath and taking hold of Ursa's flailing form.

"I don't need your help!" he cried.

"I've got him!" called Lyre, leaving Hen to gather her senses by the shore, "Hurry and close the door if you haven't!"

Everything moved so quickly; a hurried breath, the portal sealed, and finally, the stillness. It was only then that he saw where the door had taken them.

"Divine!" cried the Hermit, running over to the water's edge to greet him, "You have returned from... wherever it was you had gone to! Ease, Olm, help the Divine to the shore."

"The lake..?" Delph looked up to see the towering mountain they'd come from. Fiepet was still up there, searching for him.

"You're confused, old man," Lyre told the Hermit, "My friends and I swam over from the far side of the lake. This one may be pretty, but he's certainly no witch."

The Hermit winked back at her.

"Trying to surprise the groom, are you?" he whispered conspiratorially, "These cat and mouse games of yours must keep things exciting! I'd hurry along if I were you, before he comes back. Young Ursa here's in on it too I see!"

Young Ursa exchanged a look with the others. There was no point in disputing it if it meant they could leave freely. As the Hermit held a finger to his lips and nodded knowingly towards the Warlock's abandoned camp, the four took their chance, and with it they took Remora's horse and Fiepet's carriage.

Hen, Lyre and Delph squeezed in together, and as the largest, Ursa mounted the dappled gray. His hands held the reins, his brain still working towards a solution.

"Quickly!" called Lyre.

With the Warlock's great black steed, he could ride to the Catary and collect the cart he'd left there. But what would he tell his parents when he paid his respects in Hofingrad? He had seen the witch, and seen how happily he'd lived in ignorance of all he'd done. Justice had yet to be served.

If the witch should be made to remember his past, then Ursa would see him punished; but if the memories were lost to the land of Hymm, then being forced to marry a stranger he'd teach him to fear could be punishment enough. Regardless, if he stayed to be caught be the Counsel, he'd be exiled at once to Grunterbad.

"Where to?" asked Ursa.

On the mountainside, Fiepet had done his best to delay their progress while he thought of a plan of his own. He'd managed to 'accidentally' trip the Warlock, briefly drawn their attention in another direction, and feigned a minor injury that only the Counsel took notice of. If it came down to a fight, the Counsel would prove no issue, but the Warlock had been a tougher opponent in the Witling Forest than he'd given him credit for.  

The biggest problem would be keeping Delphin out of the fray and dragging him off the mountain unscathed. But therein posed the second problem; finding a way to take him back to Grunterbad.

Ascending another endless ridge, they began to hear voices in the distance. Fiepet panicked, wrestling a large rock from the ground and holding it securely in his hand. A splash of water, and the Warlock began to panic too. They raced on faster, their breath short and chests tight, scrambling closer in search of the sound.

"Where are they?!" The Counsel was the last to reach the stream.

"Perhaps it was a ghost we heard, or the Counsel's trick to find them did not work." Fiepet breathed a sigh of relief at discovering no one else was there.

"Could they have continued on towards the summit?" asked the Counsel, "If we double back there was another path we could have tried."

The Warlock walked closer to the water. Something was there that had no reason to be.

"And what of this?" he asked, a nod towards the giant octopus inhabiting the mountain stream.

"Do you believe it now?!" cried the Counsel, "I told you, didn't I? The witch is alive!"

Fiepet followed their gaze to the strange and undulating creature.

"This is... the witch?"

"This is proof, that the velvet water is not mine alone to command," said the Warlock.

"Who else but the witch?"

"If it is my bride, then why? Why would he run from me?!" The Warlock's temper was flaring. What was it Min had suggested? He might have run because he'd changed too much? No matter the number of centuries that had passed, he would not have forgotten him! Chained and made prisoner, that much he could understand; but to use his magic to willingly escape him? Unconscionable.

"It is late," said Fiepet, "What do you say we camp here for the night? Or better still, climb higher to the peak and rest until sunrise. I bet you could see the whole of the Witling Forest from there."

The Warlock's stare flashed over him.

"Min, perform the spell again, find Ursa; now!"

The Counsel removed the lock of hair from his coat and placed it on the ground.

"If we built a fire we'd be warm enough," continued Fiepet, "I can't remember where I heard it, but there are said to be fruits here that grow between the rocks. Sweet red berries worth the climb."

The other two ignored him; watching as the location revealed itself. Neither east nor west, but directly south, and back towards the lake.

"Can you take us there through the water?" asked the Counsel.

The Warlock tried to focus his energy to find a rift, but his power was still depleted, his hands still shaking with rage. "Fuck! No. Hurry, we go back down by foot!" 

"What is the rush?" demanded Fiepet, "If you can find him any time you want, then why risk your necks trying to climb back down in the dark?"

"You need not follow!" cried the Warlock, "You need not have followed us here in the first place!"

"The man you called brother is not who you thought he was," said the Counsel, "And the longer he runs from his identity, the harder things will be for him."

"Is that a threat?"

"Ursa means him harm," the Counsel explained, "And now he has proven his power in the water, there will be no doubt in his mind, that Delphin Strahl is the man he holds responsible for the death of his family."

"No that's, my brother wouldn't do that-" An image he'd never seen before appeared in his mind's eye. A woman was pregnant, smiling as she kissed his cheek goodbye. A memory of the past, and yet he stood before her not as a child, but as a man... bidding farewell to his mother.

The flood of emotions was too great to withstand, a guttural cry issuing from his lips, his fingers pressing hard against his skull as though to contain them.

"Master Strahl..?"

In confusion, the words spilled out. "I made a promise..."

"You promised your father you would keep Delphin safe. He will be."

"No, a promise to my mother..." Tears ran down Fiepet's face. "I promised I would come back. When the baby was old enough to learn my name... Min, what happened? What happened to our parents?" 

The lock of Ursa's hair fell from the Counsel's hand.

Rel?