Praetorus' head swirled; it felt as if the room were spinning, as if he were about to fall out of bed at any moment. The cuts on his arms and face were nothing compared to the pounding, pendulating headache that almost threatened to split his head asunder; worse still, he struggled to overpower the familiar sensation of dread and fear that he had known for years, the unnatural urge to abandon his senses and flee. It was a feeling he had known all too well for the past few years, a feeling he had counted on to find the dragon.

  It felt like a heavy veil hung over him, stifling his breath and crushing his spirit; it was dark, malicious, malevolent. Even with his eyes closed, and knowing he was safe behind stone walls, he envisioned something massive towering above him, staring at him with hungry eyes. The more he struggled to breath, the closer it seemed to loom...

  A bright light suddenly winked into luminance in his vision, blinding Praetorus and driving back the giant shadow. He knew it was all in his head, yet the vision simply felt so real, so solid; the light before him melted into the shape of a featureless humanoid of pure light, which beckoned to him with an extended hand.

  The light flickered as the great being of darkness recovered from its initial shock, before it resumed its envelopment of his senses. Fear, dread, terror; all of these sensations bubbled up and threatened to overwhelm him as the shadow's growth began to overpower the flickering light.

  Praetorus took the light being's hand, and together they shot up, through the darkness, through the shadow; on and on they went, until it felt like they shot past the heavens themselves.

  He opened his eyes. The sickening feeling of vertigo and nausea was gone, replaced with... clarity. The cuts on his arms and legs stung, but they were easily ignorable; he tried to sit up, only to feel Diana's hands upon his chest. Her palms were glowing with a faint golden light, as he saw she had done with Arthur.

  "You waste your strength." His voice was hoarse, but audible. "I was very nearly dead."

  "You're not dead now," Diana countered. "I wouldn't call it a waste."

  Praetorus grunted, allowing himself to lay back fully. The cleric concentrated on her work, her hands glowing dimly over his chest, and they remained silent for a few moments before Praetorus spoke.

  "Why do you do it?" he asked. "I am a stranger, as was Arthur. Yet you offer your very essence to us to save us."

  "I'm a healer." She smiled faintly. "It's my duty."

  "No. This goes beyond simple duty." He cast a pensive look at her. "Why?"

  Diana laughed softly. "I suppose for the same reason you're always so serious. It's in my nature." She paused her work as she bent to her side, dipping a towel into a small bucket of water. "And, you remind me of my little brother."

  "You have a brother?"

  "Had." She dabbed the moist towel across Praetorus' face, her movements slow and gentle. "We weren't related by blood, but by bond. We grew up on the streets together, did all sorts of jobs for whoever paid us." Her eyes misted over as she spoke, as though the memories had whisked her a thousand years past. "We robbed, stole, killed. It was a rough life, but we went to bed full more often than hungry."

  Praetorus frowned. "I would have never thought you an outlaw."

  The cleric smiled slyly. "It was a past life. And one I left behind only three summers ago, when I lost my brother."

  "What happened?" The archer sat up on his elbows.

  "Our life finally caught up to us. A knight cut him down before me while we were on a job. I tried to save him, but..."

  She trailed off. Praetorus could see tears well up in her eyes, but she brushed them off before she continued.

  "I'm sure it was divine justice, from either the Lady or from those we've wronged. No matter how much I bandaged him, how many times over I dressed his wounds, it wasn't enough." She placed her hands over Praetorus and resumed her healing spell, the faint golden glow radiating over her crestfallen face. "Now, it will always be enough. More than enough."

  "You seek redemption for yourself, then?"

  "No, not for me. For everyone else who still has a chance." Her eye met Praetorus'. "Even you."

  For a moment, neither spoke; the faint candle on the table flickered, as the room was washed in the silence. Praetorus pondered her words, feeling his customary wariness buckle; whether it was from fatigue or from her words, he was unsure. But something in this moment compelled him to soften his defenses.

  "You remind me of him," Diana said once more. "In both mind and manner. He was always so serious, so dour even when he was happy." She smiled sadly. "He would have been about your age by now. I guess... I'm also saving you because I wanted to give you the chance he never got."

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  "I did not ask for one," Praetorus replied.

  "Most people don't. And yet they only realize too late that a chance was all they needed." She cocked her head. "So tell me, truly. Why are you after the dragon?"

  "I have told you and everyone else before. It is to honor my gods and my clan."

  "And I've told you, I've lived a life where I know you're lying." Her sly smile was faint, but still reassuring. "I swear, as a holy cleric of the Lady, your words will not escape this room."

  "Why do you wish to know?"

  "I'm curious." She shrugged. "The Lady may turn a blind eye to those who are righteous on their paths. But I'd like to know if you'll waste your chance, and if I truly did waste my strength."

  Praetorus silently pondered her words for a moment, before he sighed.

  "Very well. I am hunting the dragon to free my own brother."

  Diana raised her brow. "I thought you said he was dead."

  "He is. And it was of my own doing." The familiar bitterness, guilt, and sorrow welled up in his chest again as he spoke. "His soul is trapped by the dragon. As are those of all who have perished in this region as of late."

  "You mean..." Diana's eyes widened.

  "Yes. The dragon is the necromancer." Praetorus' voice was impassive. "It is a blight upon the living and the dead alike. I aim to kill it and free my brother's soul in the process."

  "Praetorus, the others have to know about this. Everyone still thinks there is a separate mage working with the dragon, not that they are one and the same."

  The archer gently but firmly took her hand in his, sitting up slightly. "Diana, please. The dragon must think we still believe there is a necromancer collaborating with it. If we reveal our hand now, we will lose the element of surprise."

  The cleric gave him a dubious look, but nodded. "Alright. I don't like it, but I've sworn my secrecy. Lyla may know by now, but the others may still guess at it."

  "Then it seems Lyla must also swear her silence until the time is right." Praetorus looked at the door. "Did you hear that, Lyla?"

  An awkward silence hung in the air for a second, before Lyla sheepishly replied through the door. "Yeah, sure. My lips are sealed."

  The archer sighed as he sank back down. "It seems I must trust you both, then."

  Diana continued her healing spell on his chest, and they didn't speak for a few minutes. Just as Praetorus felt himself begin to nod off, the cleric looked at him quizzically.

  "If I may ask... how did your brother die?"

  "It was... an accident." He felt his voice begin to break, but he pushed through. "I killed him."

  The cleric's face remained soft, but impassive; she merely nodded slightly as she worked. "I see. Please, go on."

  "We were on patrol, tracking a group of bandits through the woods." The archer closed his eyes. "It was my first patrol, and he was my lead. He had me use poisoned arrows, so that even if I grazed my shots, it would still fell my target."

  Diana said nothing, but gave him a reassuring squeeze on his arm. Her hand remained there as the other one continued the spell.

  "He had me hang back while he dispatched them with his knife. I was supposed to cover him, make sure none of them would sneak up on him. But one of them did." Praetorus opened his eyes and looked at Diana. "I aimed at him. I was going to shoot. But... he was a child, like I was at the time. Younger than me, even."

  "The fact that you hesitated means you've a good soul, Praetorus," Diana assured him.

  Praetorus shook his head. "No. My hesitation cost my brother his life. I finally loosed my arrow just as the bandit leapt at my brother. They were so close together, the arrow hit them both." He fought the rising torrent of anguish within him. "My brother died, painfully. All because I hesitated."

  The familiar feelings of guilt, shame, and sorrow threatened to overwhelm him as he suppressed a rising sob. He breathed heavily, willing himself to return to his usual calm demeanor; Diana maintained her hand on his arm, holding him in an effort to comfort him.

  "It wasn't your fault," she offered. "You were young, inexperienced. Even an experienced archer would hesitate to shoot a child."

  "I was stupid and careless." Praetorus felt his heart slow back down, and the whirl of emotions settle into its customary tranquility. "I hesitated, and my skill was lacking. Factors that were within my control that I did not master." His expression hardened as he looked at Diana. "Never again. I control every shot, every action. If it is within my power, I control it."

  Diana's face broke into a sad smile. "I see. Do these factors include us as well?"

  "If need be, yes." Praetorus nodded. "I will stop at nothing to ensure my brother is freed."

  "Even if it results in one of our deaths?"

  The archer paused. "I... No. Not if I can control it."

  "That's the thing, Praetorus. Not everything can be controlled, nor should it. People, most of all." Diana finished her work and stood. "People are chaotic. And chaos can't be controlled, no matter how hard you try."

  "I am not controlling them - you - directly," he retorted. "I control their chances. Their environments. Their odds. Every risk I take is a calculated one."

  "Nobody blames you for your brother's death. I certainly don't. But you're punishing the others for it." The cleric began packing everything back where she had found them. "For someone who controls his emotions and actions so tightly, you've taken quite the chances with the others. You risked them with the wyvern, and you risked Arthur and yourself at the Mountain."

  Praetorus frowned. "I am keeping you all alive."

  "No, you're keeping them under control. And from what I've seen with you and Arthur, that control is enslaved to your own vengeance." She cocked her brow at him. "How long until your risks merit sacrificing one of them? Until it merits my sacrifice?"

  He didn't respond; his expression remained blank, but he could feel the first whispers of doubt in his mind. When he finally spoke again, his tone was faintly strained.

  "I will not sacrifice you if it is within my control."

  Diana gave him a look. "I believe you. I hope the others will as well."

  Praetorus made to lay back, then suddenly jolted up. "No. Wait." He tried to swing himself out of bed, but collapsed to the stone floor; Diana rushed over and began to help him up.

  "Praetorus, careful! You're not strong enough to stand yet!"

  He shook his head. "I... I remember now. The dragon. It is coming!"

  "Wha-"

  A dull roar echoed from somewhere far off, as the two froze.

  Praetorus paled, white as snow. "It is too late. He is here."