1 Prologue (Alira)

Alira reached up and stroked her son's cheek. His eyelids fluttered but remained closed. He'd been sitting at her bedside for days now, waiting for the brief moments of lucidity when Alira was once more herself.

"My poor child," she whispered, speaking softly so as not to wake him. "I'm going to leave you soon."

It hurt to admit aloud. Alira didn't want to die. She wasn't that old and had so many things left to teach her son. There were so many adventures they could have gone on, so many places to see and people to meet.

"Things are going to be hard for you now. The people in this town respect me, but they aren't comfortable with the services I provide. You'll have to bear my legacy, and for that I'm sorry."

"It's not a bad legacy," said a voice.

Looking past her son, Alira found a shriveled old woman peeking into the room. Alira smiled at her. "Yora, have you been looking after Roran for me?"

Yora shook her head. "He won't let me. He refuses to leave your bedside, even to sleep."

"I guess I coddled him too much. Oh well, he'll grow out of it."

"Can I bring you anything?"

"A blanket for Roran, please. Oh, and some tea if it's not too much trouble."

Yora bobbed her head and left.

Alira settled back into her bed, cozying into the mattress and blankets. She was simultaneously cold and hot. It was bearable for the moment but it wouldn't last. The fire inside her would soon push her back into the darkness of fever dreams as her illness cooked her from the inside out. It was frustrating to die so slowly in front of her son, the suffering was dragged out while he was forced to watch her suffer. Alira stroked his cheek again, careful not to wake him.

"I feel like I should say something important, or impart some knowledge, but I don't know what. I could tell you I love you, but I've spent your entire life showing you that. I could tell you I'm proud of you, but I've already told you, at every turn and accomplishment. I could tell you that you're my whole world, but you would just smile and tell me, 'I know mom,' in that cheerful tone of yours. There's nothing left for me to say because it's already been said."

Yora returned with a blanket and a steaming mug. She set the mug next to Alira and carefully draped the blanket around Roran's shoulders. Roran shifted but didn't stir. The poor boy was exhausted, with deep dark circles under his eyes. The eyes themselves were probably bloodshot from crying. Roran was too sensitive for his own good.

"He's so handsome, isn't he?" said Alira. "And he's always so cheerful. Did you know that he barely cried as a child. Even when he hurt himself, he would smile and tell me the story of what he'd done to earn his injury while I patched him up."

"He's a fine young man, thanks to you," said Yora.

"I've done my best, but the rest will be up to him. I hope he's ready for the troubles ahead."

"We will look after him."

"No you won't," said Alira, a sad smile on her lips. "The town will revile him. Once I'm gone they'll want him gone too."

"That's not true!" said Yora.

"Not so loud, he's sleeping."

"Sorry, the town loves you. If it wasn't for you, half of the town would be dead."

"Favors are fast forgotten. Once I'm gone, people will be left wondering who he belongs to. Everyone that passes through this town will be afraid he belongs to one of them, or to one of their husbands."

"Does he?"

"He does, not that it matters. No man helped to raise him and so he will call no man father. But that's okay. He's a strong boy, stronger than people give him credit for. He's smart and determined and stubborn. He's kind too."

"He's a lot like you," said Yora.

"Oh, by the gods I hope not. The last thing I want is for him to find as much trouble as I have."

"You've travelled far and wide. You've seen much and done much. You even had time to raise your boy. That's not a bad life."

"True, but I didn't get to see him become a man. I'll have to leave that to him."

"You can leave it to us," said Yora, placing a hand on Alira's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "We'll look after your boy."

"You'd better, otherwise I'll come back and haunt all of you."

Yora blanched and took a step back. Alira had meant it as a joke but Yora was superstitious. She probably thought Alira was being serious. Instead of saying anything, Alira decided to let the threat stand and sipped her tea. It was too weak, and the tea leaves weren't balanced. Alira sighed and took another sip. Roran always made a perfect pot of tea, but she wasn't about to wake him and insult Yora.

"I'll go tidy up," said Yora, still pale from Alira's threats.

Watching the old woman hobble out of the room, Alira felt the fire starting to burn inside her again. She'd be lost to the fever dreams soon. Placing a hand on her son's knee, she squeezed it.

"I hate to leave you," she said, "Especially now. Dark times are coming. War will come to Millgrove. There is a beast that devours all in its path, and Millgrove is standing directly in front of it. You will see people die. You will lose this home of ours, and likely your faith in humanity. Don't give up my sweet child, don't let the dark gods win. You will meet people, good people with kind souls like yours. They won't be what you're expecting, good people never are, but don't let that fool you. Find people you can love and hold onto them." Alira sighed. "But you already know all that."

She laid back into the bed, her breathing becoming shallow as her lungs started burning. She was sweating again and her vision was beginning to blur. Alira shuddered, afraid that this would be the last time she was awake enough to talk to her child. She wracked her mind for anything she should say, anything that had been left unsaid. She thought of nothing. There were no secrets between them.

"Mom?"

Alira could just barely make out Roran's face looking down at her. She reached up and touched his cheek again.

"There's my sweet boy."

Roran grabbed the hand and held it to his face. His skin felt cold against Alira's hand. The fever made everything feel cold.

"There's a storm coming," said Alira, her thoughts becoming disjointed.

Roran smiled and nodded. "I know mom, you told me."

"And your father. He's...he will..."

"I know mom, you told me before. Relax mom, I'll be okay."

It was getting hard to think. Fire was dancing along Alira's insides and a pit of coals had formed where her stomach should have been. Alira was breathing in short breathes, each one harder than the last.

Alira forced herself to smile. Roran was putting on such a brave face for her, even though his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. The world began to dim.

"I love you sweet child."

"I love you too mom."

Darkness.