Micah found Simon waiting at the bottom of the stairs, holding a package wrapped in linen in one hand and his staff in the other.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” the old man said, flashing his signature grin. “I debated whether or not to disturb you so early in the morning. You slept quite a long time! I was beginning to think you might have left during the night.”

  Micah joined him, feeling the uncomfortable effects of his appearance, but trying his best to ignore them. “Yes, thank you. It was just what we needed.”

  “Will the young lady be along?”

  “My guess is no. Based on her observable habits, I would estimate she will be in bed until noon.”

  The priest laughed. His strange half-mustache fluttered with just the slightest movement. “Very well, then. Care to take a walk with me? It’s Paywee harvest season, and I’m headed to the orchards to oversee the work of the pickers. I could use the company.”

  “Of course. My intent was to take a walk in the first place.”

  Simon nodded and turned them back along the path toward the monastery. The morning fog was now all but dissipated. The church’s highest point could be seen just peeking over the trees, glowing in the morning sunlight. Micah heard bells ringing in the distance, and the chirping of hundreds of birds provided a pleasing accompaniment.

  “Since you missed dinner, I brought you this,” Simon said, handing him the linen package. “It was also for your companions, but since neither are present, have as much as you like.”

  Micah unwrapped the cloth. Three steaming pastries lay inside, glazed with sugar and melting butter. He was indeed ravenous, and his stomach made no attempt to conceal that fact, rumbling audibly. He took one and turned his head away from Simon to pull his mask down, devouring the roll before lifting the shroud back up over his mouth. He regretted not being able to savor it – the delicious morsel melted in his mouth, warming him all the way down.

  Simon watched him eat, eyes sparkling with interest. “So,” he said as Micah began an attempt to eat another. “I confess I had trouble sleeping last night, so intrigued was I to know more about you. When one of the last Black Sons of Carnel appears in our humble town, beaten and bruised and accompanied by a Murr and an energetic young girl… well, it seems there’s a story just waiting to be told. Now I won’t pressure you, of course, but I’m hoping you might indulge an old man’s curiosity.”

  Micah finished off his breakfast, folding up the cloth and handing it back to Simon. With a pleasantly full stomach and a tranquil setting around him, he felt rested and serene for the first time in a long time, and perhaps ever.

  “It’s fine,” he replied. “When we first set foot on the shores of Elyas, my initial plan was to retreat to the church, not only to hide but to seek guidance. I am finding myself… lost, and have had no one to turn to in some time. My former master once told me to seek the church should such a day ever arise. I am heeding that advice.”

  “A wise master,” Simon said.

  “Indeed. So, I would like to tell you our story. Mine and Charlotte’s. It is my natural tendency to circumvent revealing anything unnecessary to people I don’t know, but since I am in great need of counsel, I do not believe hiding my past would help you in any way. And the nature of my troubles is supernatural in foundation. Going to anyone but a man of God seemed injudicious. I must warn you that it’s a lengthy story, however.”

  “It’s a lengthy walk, and I am slow,” the priest replied. “Proceed.”

  Starting from the day Charlotte was taken captive, Micah told him everything that happened before their arrival in St. Meran. No details were excluded, and he especially made every effort to leave nothing out concerning their encounter with the angels on the Mountain of the Wolf, the death of Lord Kyba, and the establishment of the Age of the Nine.

  An hour passed, but Simon made no attempt to interrupt him, save for a clarifying question or two. Nor did he ever look at Micah as though he were delusional or insane, despite the remarkable nature of the tale. He simply listened as they strolled down a pleasant path driving deep into the forest.

  “We arrived on the shores of Elyas yesterday morning,” Micah concluded. “You found us just as we entered the city, and now, here we are.”

  “That’s quite a story!” Simon said.

  He turned off the path, ambling up a rocky knoll. Micah followed him until they were standing under a large tree loaded with Paywee. The purple fruit resembled pears, fleshy and bulbous, shining from the remnant of the morning haze. Beyond the small hill, acres of Paywee trees stretched in tight rows without end, green and full. Workers by the dozens labored under the sun, picking the fruit and loading basketfuls into carts. The morning slowly grew warmer, but it remained chilly, and dew coated the grass in a silvery blanket.

  “I know it must be quite difficult to believe,” Micah said after a time of silent watching.

  “On the contrary…” Simon reached to a low-hanging branch and plucked a ripe Paywee, turning it over in his hand before tossing it to him. “I have no doubt you are telling the truth.”

  “You don’t?”

  He laughed, taking another for himself and leaning back against the tree. “And judging from your condition yesterday, you weren’t exaggerating either. These are exciting times, my boy.”

  Micah frowned, turning the fruit over in his hands. “‘Exciting’ isn’t the first word that comes to mind.”

  “It should be. The start of a new age is upon us, and you are the focal point of its establishment. You have been marked by God, spoken with angels, and foiled powerful enemies. Can you not see what has been granted to you? You have been chosen for a great mission!”

  “Another mission,” Micah said bitterly. He sat on the grass, crossing his legs and resting his arms across them. He looked out over the orchards, feeling very tired. The peace he had felt for just a few hours now seemed an illusion.

  “I only have six years’ worth of memories, Roshi. Six years. And since the day I awoke from the Black Sleep, I’ve done nothing but kill and destroy. Mission after mission after mission. Yet, they never stopped coming.” He looked at his hands. “When Charlotte freed me, I started to think maybe the missions were over and I could make my own decisions. Was it foolish to believe so?”

  Simon rubbed his chin, an intrigued look on his face. “Let me answer that with a different question: What would you call a man without a mission?”

  Micah had to consider for a moment. “Idle,” he finally answered.

  “And is that what you want?”

  “I was beginning to believe so. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  Simon limped up beside him and sat on the grass with a grunt. Taking a moment to recover, he then scooted his body to face him. “Tell me. Do you know what the original mission of the Black Sons was?”

  Micah nodded. “Lord Kyba told us the brotherhood was established to protect Carnel.”

  “Well yes… and no. You are speaking of their redemption, but you see, the original Black Sons were renegades and thieves.”

  “Criminals?”

  He nodded. “Talented ones, yet captured in the midst of an ill-advised attempt to break into Helice Triones, the castle of the Avalon king. It should have been the end of them, but then something extraordinary happened. Their leader was a man named Cicero Knight, a wild and free spirit if one ever existed. He was young, smart, and eager, but evidently too eager, because he and his entire crew were caught red-handed by King Namolech. They were rounded up in the courtyard, and the king decided he would pass judgment on the spot. Normally, invading the domicile of the king spelled death, so as you might guess, the thieves were afraid. But not Cicero. He just stared the king right in the eye, never saying a word.

  “This intrigued Namolech, so he began to question the young man. And the first question he asked was, ‘Why did you attempt to steal from me?’

  “Cicero replied, ‘My life is my mission. And my mission is myself. I came here for gold and jewels, but most of all, I came for the thrill of taking them.’

  “‘Your life is now mine to do with as I see fit,’ the king replied. ‘Should I have you and your men put to death?’

  “‘I want to live, sir,’ he said. ‘But I am not afraid of death.’”

  Micah did a double-take at those words.

  Simon smiled back at him, nodding. “Sound familiar?”

  I want to live.

  “What did the king do?” Micah asked.

  Simon twisted the hairs of his mustache between two fingers, rolling them as he paused and looked into the sky, which Micah assumed was to provide effect. “He let the Black Sons go.”

  “He just let them walk free?”

  “Essentially. Namolech freed the thieves, but before doing so, he passed his judgment. In retribution for the evil they committed, he gave Cicero and his men… a mission. According to the story, a demon named Casitel dwelled in the Vega Mountains, terrorizing and killing travelers through the pass. He was so ferocious and murderous, no one would attempt the journey any longer. Namolech and his wife, Queen Violet, intended to deal with the demon on their own, but instead, he gave Cicero the job. And if he and his men succeeded, they would not only be exonerated, but honored with riches and glory. And with that, the king ordered they be released.”

  Micah folded his arms. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could he possibly trust a criminal to obey and do something like that?”

  “Sounds foolish, doesn’t it? Cicero could have just fled… and yet, he didn’t.” Simon chuckled with glee, slapping his leg. “In fact, just a few weeks later, King Namolech received word that Cicero and his crew were returning to Avalon City with the head of the demon in their possession. The king immediately ordered a victory celebration be organized to welcome the Black Sons as heroes.”

  Confounded by Simon’s story, Micah frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Simon patted his shoulder affectionately. “You see, my boy, in his wisdom, Namolech understood something about the nature of Cicero. He realized the source of the man’s courage was his own pride. It was how he defined his life. Living for himself, and seeking new thrills and dangers. Cicero couldn’t walk away from the challenge. He couldn’t run away. And what do you think happened when Cicero returned to face the king?”

  Micah shook his head.

  “He grew up!” The priest laughed. “When Cicero came back victorious, he realized living for others and being regarded as a hero gave him much more reward than living for himself. It became a life-altering event, and from that day forward, the Black Sons dedicated themselves to the king and Carnel. The nonsense of masks and wearing black and absolute obedience was added much later by people who wanted control over their dedication. It lost all meaning eventually, but in truth, the original Black Sons became protectors of Carnel simply because a great man challenged them to live a life worthy of their own name.”

  Bowing his head, Micah found he was unable to respond. A wretched depression clenched his heart in a vice grip. “So, why are you telling me this story, Roshi? Has my life before now been foolish and unnecessary? Was I but a na?ve and prideful thief, like Cicero?”

  “No, Micah. I am telling you this story because like Cicero, you are in need of a new mission. An even greater king knew this about you and has offered you redemption.”

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  He looked up at him. “What mission?”

  “I believe that is for you to decide. Didn’t Cicero have to do the same when he was set free? And if I heard you correctly, it sounds as if the assignment the angel gave you – to help others – was for your personal gain. Am I not right?”

  Micah nodded. “She said destiny would be revealed to my heart when I completed the charge.”

  “Do you see now? This isn’t just the latest task forced on your back. Far from it.” He tapped his chest. “It’s an ultimate mission to guide you… to help you find purpose now that you have been set free.”

  “Purpose,” he repeated.

  A painful lump gathered in his throat. Under the tender gaze of the priest, Micah found himself bathing in a hope he had never noticed nor fathomed. Could it be true? Could all this really be for his sake?

  “But how can I know for sure?”

  The priest shrugged, taking a large bite of the Paywee. “The only way is to walk the path. So, what will you do?”

  He considered it a moment. “In the Twin Cities, Cal told me I should think about what I really want out of life, now that it’s my own. And that same night I realized with surprising clarity what I wanted more than anything.”

  “And that is?”

  “To know my purpose. I’ve only ever been a tool of destruction in the hands of others, but since I met Charlotte, I started making my own decisions and began to believe fate was mine to control, but I was wrong. Regardless of what I thought I wanted, destiny led us to Lord Kyba. Yet I never conceived what was happening. I considered myself to be free and such encounters to be chance. So, when the angels appeared, I couldn’t help but feel they were trying to take freedom away from me.”

  “Do you still believe that?”

  Micah shook his head. “I think you’re right, Roshi. Arabella was guiding me.” He took off his glove and looked at his hand. The deep scar now seemed a saving grace. “The governor always sent me on his missions, because he knew I wouldn’t fail. I was the one most capable of finishing the task. I don’t know what it means to be one of the Nine, but I do know what I want now. I want to be like Cicero. I want to save people rather than hurt them. And perhaps the reason I was chosen … is because I am still the one most capable of completing the mission.”

  Simon tossed the Paywee core into the air and clapped his hands together, looking skyward. “May I never forget the day I was fortunate to meet you, Micah Champlain! You have overjoyed this old man with your honest heart and astounding wisdom.” He reached over, placing his hand on Micah’s head. “I know not where you are going, but may you be a blessing in this dark world, wherever the path of decision takes you.”

  After the prayer, they rose. With a light heart and tingling head, Micah joined Simon in finding their way back onto the path and continuing on. For the rest of the morning they walked and talked, completing a wide circle around the entire grounds. Micah learned so many things from the priest, dwelling on the riches of his seemingly endless supply of insight. All the things he wished he could have asked Kyba before he died, Simon was capable of answering or at least providing guidance. Before long, they were back in the tiny church courtyard, and the sun was high above them. The heat from the previous day had returned with little warning.

  “So, what will you do now?” Simon asked.

  “We will move on,” Micah replied. “Somewhere farther inland. I believe we are safe now, but my instinct for preparation and caution is always at the forefront of my mind, and St. Meran is too close to the coast for comfort. Truthfully, I do not wish to stay in any one place for long, and travelling from place to place would allow me to start my work.”

  “Very good. Of course, St. Meran will always be available to you. And, if Miss Goodsteel finds the open road doesn’t suit her any longer, she is more than welcome to take shelter here instead.”

  Micah shook his head. “I want her with me. I have no way of knowing if Vash will attempt to follow us beyond Carnel’s borders, and I believe I am the only one capable of protecting her.”

  “But what does she want?”

  “I… haven’t figured that out yet.” He felt slightly ashamed. “Having Charlotte by my side and protecting her is what I want.”

  Simon chuckled with a knowing smile. “You’re human. A young man without blinds preventing you from noticing pretty young girls. You are trusting your feelings now. It’s a good thing. Even so, I would like to speak with her as well.”

  He looked up at Micah curiously, scrutinizing his face as if trying to look through the mask. Then, an idea seemed to come to him. He limped a few paces to the building and reached for one of the large oak doors, tugging it open. He nodded his head aside and directed his staff.

  “Come inside, where it’s cool. We can discuss your plans some more. I have maps and provisions, both of which are at your disposal.”

  Micah made to walk through the door, but Simon held up a hand before he crossed the threshold.

  “Ah, my apologies. I should have mentioned it right away. This is the Adytum, the holy place. There can be no masks before the presence of God. Please, remove it before entering.”

  He stared at the priest in surprise. From the innocent smile on his face, Micah guessed this was his intent from the start. A Black Son never removed his mask, except in the presence of God or the king. Simon must have known the law of his guild. The idea of it flustered him, and he stood in silence for a good while, grappling with a normal request to anybody else but a life-defining decision for him. How many times had he refused Charlotte the same request? And how much of every day did he devote to ensuring his skin was never exposed?

  But after such a monumental day, the decision became quite clear. Simon had given him so much. How could be refuse? He didn’t really want to.

  Micah finally nodded. “Of course.”

  Reaching to his head, he grasped the material and pulled the shroud free.

  *       *       *

  Normally, Charlotte couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day. The sun was out yet again, shining happily, and a pleasant, steady breeze whishing through the forest drove away just enough heat. A perfect union delightful against the skin. Colored leaves stirred and crunched beneath her footfalls, sounds reminiscent of her childhood playtimes, and everyone she passed in her walk shared a grin and “Hello!” Not to mention, she felt considerably safer now that Carnel was on the other side of the strait. But she had too many things on her mind to closely regard such things.

  Coming to a charming bridge lending passage over the brook, she stopped to watch three boys attempting to fish with little more than sticks and string. After fruitless efforts to make a decent pole, they gave up and went swimming. She shivered just watching them, leaning against the carved wood railing and hugging her arms. Her reflection stared back at her from the stream, beautiful in a purple and gray dress she bought in Castor. It was the first time she wore it, and she was anxious to ask Micah how it looked on her.

  She sighed. For the hundredth time, Micah demanded her thoughts. All morning, he was all she could think about. And this was only a continuation of the past week, even the past month! This man who saved her, who bled for her, who did anything she asked of him, no matter the trouble.

  Again, she sighed, propping her elbows on the rails and putting her head in her hands. Micah did so much for her, yet what had she done for him in return? Nothing. Not since the first night they met, anyway. And she only used Heartbreaker on him to escape Soto Silver. A happy accident.

  Naturally, Charlotte was desperate to be of some help to him, but for days, she’d been racking her brain for ideas with no results. She couldn’t teach him anything or contribute anything of worth. He had money and valuables, knew how to cook and sew and treat his own wounds. He was adroit, nimble in mind and hand. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do!

  She groaned in frustration, walking off the bridge and making for the church commune, which drew near. Despite her best attempt, she couldn’t think of anything, but she wouldn’t give up. She just couldn’t. No matter how long it took, Charlotte made it her mission to be a valuable helper to Micah one day, and not just a leech.

  “Miss Goodsteel!” a voice called out.

  Charlotte turned to find one of the young men from the previous day coming up to her, carrying a hefty basket on his shoulder loaded with some sort of odd purple fruit. Elzo, if she remembered his name correctly.

  “How fortunate,” he continued, reaching her. “I was just about to look for you. Paywee?” He offered her one of the fruit.

  “Oh, um, no thank you. I just had breakfast. Why are you looking for me?”

  He put it back, not the least put off. “Roshi Simon would like to speak with you, if you can spare some time.”

  “Of course,” she replied, a bit flustered by the request. “Where is he?”

  “He’s in his quarters.” Elzo pointed to the church. “Take the front entrance, and the door to his quarters is just beside the Holy Tree. You can’t miss it. Make sure to wipe your feet.”

  He smiled and winked before turning back toward the commune, hauling his large basket with ease. She watched him go before turning back and making a timid journey around the church to the carved oak doors. Grasping one of the gilded handles, she pulled it open. A puff of cool air met her face as she stepped inside the silent sanctuary. And once her eyes adjusted to the dim light, her mouth fell agape at the wonders she beheld.

  Myriad colors spilled over the cathedral hall, sunlight filtering through stained glass to splash in silent pools. The colors swept over rows of pews. Each carved settee featured plump sitting pillows and a butterfly-shaped finial at each end. Charlotte ventured down the wide middle aisle, her footfalls soundless on the gorgeous hunter-green carpet.

  She couldn’t help but hold her breath, fearful the noise would offend the glory of her surroundings. At the end, a humble pulpit stood, small enough for a man of Simon’s stature to see over. And in the corner, the grandest wonder yet: a tree. Partitioned by a wrought iron fence, the magnificence of the tree still seemed natural, as if the church had been built around it. Roots were firmly entrenched in the ground, and its gnarled limbs were full and leafy green. Three fountains surrounded the tree, bubbling with clear, delicious-looking water that spilled over stone bowls to trickle into the soil. Just three pieces of fruit were harbored in the tree’s branches, but Charlotte could spot them with ease because they glowed. Shaped just like the Paywee fruit Elzo had offered her only moments ago, yet these shined golden, as if kissed by the sun itself. Three circular openings were carved out of the walls near the roof, positioned to allow sunlight to flood the tree at any time of the day.

  Charlotte could have marveled at the sanctuary for hours, but she peeled her gaze away to locate the door to Simon’s quarters, which she found with ease, tucked in the back right beside the tree.

  She opened this door and stepped inside a darker room. The carpet ended, and the clacks of her shoes against stone echoed in the sizable chamber. It was chilly, but not unpleasantly so, and sufficient light from dozens of candles lining the walls guided her way. She found Simon sitting at a large writing desk stacked with scrolls, charting tools, quills, and other assorted items. He was talking with someone dressed in the same white garb worn by many of the people on church grounds.

  “Ah, Miss Goodsteel!” Simon said with his usual cheer, raising a hand. “We’ve been waiting for you. Come, come.”

  She smiled and approached. When she arrived to stand before his desk, her attention turned to the other person. Her eyebrows rose, and her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was a young man. Dashing in his white tunic, he was tall, though not too tall, and strapping, though not too muscular. Long tassels of dark red hair scattered over his head, rough and tousled as though he performed his own haircuts, but otherwise he was the most gorgeous boy she’d ever seen in her life. Intense green eyes stared back at her, hesitant, almost as if he was embarrassed by her looking at him but didn’t want her to know it. A strange tattoo embellished his cheek beneath his right eye. Four blue marks arranged in a bowl pattern – they resembled five-pointed stars without the upper points.

  Upon recovering, she smiled her cutest smile and puffed out her chest. “Hello,” she said, taking a step toward him.

  His eyes turned down, a barely discernible mixture of confusion and shyness that made her heart do flips. He didn’t answer her, so she tried again.

  “I’m Charlotte. What’s your name? Do you live here?”

  “My word,” Simon interrupted, astonished. “Miss Goodsteel, you don’t recognize your own friend?”

  “My friend? What do you—” She gasped, bringing her mouth to her hand and looking up at the boy in shock. He looked away now, clearly embarrassed.

  “Oh… oh my,” she whispered breathlessly.

  It was almost too hard to believe. But she rapidly pieced the evidence together now. The same chiseled jaw, the same jade eyes, the three crystal earrings, the unique sword at his side. It could only be him. But he was wearing white! And he wore no mask! How could it be?

  “Micah?” she ventured. Her face flushed with heat. She came closer, placing a tentative hand on his chest and looking into his eyes. “Is that really you?”

  Simon shook his head, chuckling. “I have to give you credit, my boy. You must take your vows seriously, if you were able to resist showing your face even to this young lady.”

  “She certainly tried her hardest,” he replied.

  Only when she heard his voice did Charlotte become certain. She took his face into her hands, beaming with delight. Her gaze consumed every inch of him with insatiable hunger.

  “I can’t believe it!” she said. “I was so afraid I would never know what you look like. And now… there you are.”

  He didn’t smile, but his discomfited appearance melted away. “I am… glad that you’re happy,” he said.

  “What made you finally change your mind?”

  “I didn’t change my mind. Remember what I told you? I never take my mask off, except in the presence of God or the king. So, you can thank sly Simon here for inviting me inside the sanctuary.”

  The priest laughed, more so when Charlotte came around his desk and launched herself into his embrace. “I see this has been a long time coming,” he said, patting her head.

  “It really has!” she replied. “Thank you so much for bringing him here, Simon!”

  She regained a sense of propriety and returned to Micah’s side, but she never took her eyes off him. As she continued to look him up and down with intense scrutiny, he squirmed under her stare.

  “So, then,” Simon said, still chuckling with amusement. “As you were saying, you will stay another night and leave tomorrow?”

  Micah cleared his throat and leaned over the desk, tracing his finger along the folded lines of a map. “Yes. From this chart you’ve provided, I think heading north through Rypsy is our best option. What do you think, Charlotte?”

  “Uh huh.”

  She felt her head nod, but she was barely listening to their conversation. All she could do was marvel at Micah standing beside her. He was so beautiful, it wasn’t fair. With his rugged frame and striking features, it was as if he’d been carved by a master sculptor, then hidden away from the world until now. And she was awed that despite wearing a mask at all times, no tan lines distorted his complexion. Of course, Charlotte hoped from the beginning he would be good-looking, but she had hedged her bets, knowing the odds. Yet there he was.

  He snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, and she jolted back to reality. “What?” she said alertly. “Oh yes. North is fine. It’s all fine.”

  She beamed at him, and he nodded, turning back to study the map again.

  Simon looked back and forth between them. An idea seemed to come to him because a delightedly devious smile stretched across his face.

  “Very well,” he said. “And since you are staying the night, you must join us for the Harvest Festival.”

  Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “A festival?”

  “Yes. I’m sure you saw the preparations being made when you entered town. It’s Paywee harvest season, and our crop is bountiful this year. We are celebrating tonight with our annual carnival, and I insist that you two join in the fun.”

  She clapped her hands. “How exciting! Oh, Micah can we?”

  Though he still didn’t smile, she knew well that he also was eager to go. Even so, doubt clouded his features. “Are we permitted?” he asked. “We certainly don’t want to intrude.”

  “Nonsense!” the priest exclaimed. “You’ll just need something more traditional to wear. You can easily find what you need in town.”

  Charlotte squealed in joy. “Shopping, too? This is the best day ever!”