a/n: Revisions: Various dialogue changes between Anna and Sol.

Chapter 4: Sinister Innocence

It was early in the morning, and chilly enough for him to wear a cloak and not look entirely out of place.

Besides, Alek thought, many of those living in the slums similarly wore their homes on their backs. These heavy cloaks, made of thick, coarse fabric, were what the poorest slept on. Luckier ones might live under a crumbling roof, but that was life here, these shantytowns that were packed into one corner of the region—an elaborate labyrinth of blackened paths and crumbling stone that doubled in on itself like diseased intestines. Ironically, it had looked better while Elsa reigned. If there was one thing the snow was good for, it was hiding the rot jammed into the underbelly of the Southern Isles.

Alek had never visited these parts, content to follow the convention of past generations. Policy was to let the slums govern themselves save for collection of taxes and the occasional crackdown on crime, though that was certainly led by less important officials, not members of the royal family. Based on what he had heard of the slums, Alek expected them to be decrepit.

What he did not expect was the absolute devastation more befitting a warzone than a residence.

It was disgusting. Alek had pushed through the gates leading inside and immediately been assaulted by a rancor more putrid than the stench of corpses. Buildings fought for space and twisted upwards in mounds of concrete, and the air trapped within became heavy, stale, pressing on him with its dark humidity. Flies buzzed around mounds of trash. Water ran black, oozing into sewers of sludge. Birds and carrion-eaters flitted through the narrow corridors, likely smelling death and waiting for its latest meal among the residents.

It was…sad.

Alek shoved down his rising empathy. There would be time to reflect on this when he wasn't on a mission and potentially in enemy territory.

"And I thought I hated you," Alek muttered, standing across from a vandalized wall and half-admiring the rather unflattering depiction of Elsa. But that was hardly the most interesting thing here.

Another wall depicted Anna.

She had been painted with loving detail, far from the crude portrayal that Elsa suffered. Whoever drew this was both talented and dedicated, but most alarmingly—accurate. Alek hated to dredge up the memories, but even among his hazy recollections he could remember Her—Queen Anna. Porcelain skin and hair redder than blood, shining silver armor and crimson cape that made her look like a descended Valkyrie. Many people witnessed that sight. But the finer details, the curve of Anna's brow, the turn of her lips, the slight bump in the bridge of her nose? Whoever painted this knew too much and too well.

It seemed that Hans was right about there being a cult dedicated to Anna.

Alek repressed a shudder at what seeing Anna like that again awoke in him. Some part of him still wanted to prostrate himself at Her feet and worship Her blindly, and that terrified him, the thought that he might once again be lost to that euphoria of numbing mindlessness. Even now he remembered, but—he dragged himself out of those recollections.

Goddamnit, not now.

If there really was a growing cult here, judging by the mural, they were doing little to hide their tracks. Alek hadn't expected them to be subtle. Rather than simply fooling the scouts they had sent, the vigilantes instead pinned their heads to the castle gates. Dramatics seemed to be their calling card. Here, there were arrows painted in the mural that pointed down an alleyway, and Alek followed. He wasn't alone. Many others were moving down the same path, and as he passed them he could make out hushed whispers of fear and respect both.

Not a resident of the slums, finding his way through the alleys would have been nigh impossible. More arrows painted on the walls, bright red in contrast to the grime, guided his path. It was irritating being told where to go. Alek felt like he was being jerked this way and that, sometimes having barely turned into one alley before needing to turn sharply on his heel and go down another way. Beneath the cover of his cloak, he kept his hand on his sword.

After what felt like an eternity being trapped in that maze, Alek finally stumbled into one of the few wider clearings of the slums. There was already a crowd gathering, and Alek kept to the edge. In the middle of the clearing was a wooden stage, the planks rotten and feeble but serviceable enough. There were already two people standing there, both of them, to Alek's disgust, wearing the skull mask that had been trademark of the Sorcerer—of Edmund.

"If you would all give him your attention," said one of the two, the shorter one, so softly that Alek couldn't even make out whether they were male or female, "Brennus will speak now."

At once, the crowd silenced.

Now a third figure walked onto the stage, but he was not masked. At first glance, Alek thought the man looked old, certainly middle-aged—his face was thin, long, and his features disheveled, his coat tattered, but there was a vitality to his movements that spoke otherwise. More careful scrutiny shocked him. Beneath the unkempt appearance was the face of a man who had barely matured from a boy, a man who could not have been past his mid-twenties. No, this person was not old but young, certainly younger than himself.

"My name is Brennus, and I speak today as the mouthpiece of the Red Tempest."

Brennus swept his gaze over the crowd, and Alek stilled when he passed over him. Had Brennus paused for a fraction of a second? Green-yellow eyes, their color almost venomous, bore through him like the fangs of a snake. Alek felt a prickle at the back of his neck from that simple gaze, and he realized—

This man is dangerous.

"Do not be mistaken. I am not the leader or in charge," Brennus said. His voice had an angry, throaty quality, as though he were on the verge of growling. "You have been robbed of autonomy long enough."

Murmurs arose in the crowd. Agreement. Alek heard the frustration in their voices, the resentment.

"And I, too, have been weak and powerless," Brennus continued, clenching his fist. "I was from Corona, and I was an orphan. I fled from my parents when I realized that their giving me life did not grant them the right to hurt me. I was…young, when I left. But there was no choice. There was no life to be had.

"At the orphanage where I found respite, I met Ayden, and Morgan, and many other friends who would become my true family." Brennus nodded to the two others on stage, the masked ones. "But that place was every bit as hellish as the home from which I fled. Once again, I found myself living under the thumb of another. I had traded the brutality of my parents for the cold neglect of the caretaker.

"When Elsa attacked our nation, my friends and I fought. We were children, but we fought so that we would not be separated. Even mounting a defense took everything we had, and yet we were separated—and enslaved.

"But our fight did not end there. I did everything I could to defy my slavers, I rebelled, I fled, I fought. Others joined me…but pushed to our wit's end, we were killed one by one. We were hunted down like animals. In that hopelessness, we learned…the only way to survive was to kill. Only those who bore a steeled will would live through that hell."

Alek looked away. It was an unfortunate truth that the Southern Isles had enslaved many among the conquered. Many times, his men had been the ones sent to retrieve escaped slaves. Some of those he trained to guard the castle had been slaves, captured to round out their ranks.

Brennus exhaled a slow breath.

"It was then, in the throes of despair, that I looked to the sky…and found a goddess." Brennus placed his hand over his heart, dug his fingers into his chest. His eyes, widened and alight with mad fervor, looked up to the sky as though he might catch a glimpse of his goddess again. "Queen Anna was our goddess. Our savior who would show us the path to freedom. But before her work could be completed…she was taken from us. Now I take on her mantle. She has enlightened me. I see now that my despair is not my shackle but my key, the key to freedom, to liberty. Despair has shown me the path that we must take.

"Let me now enlighten you." Brennus bowed his head, smiling a sardonic smile. "Why do you linger here? Your lot should not be among the filth. Why suffer under yet another unjust king, who would shackle you again? Why obey the whims of untalented men, who pretend to own your lives? How shall the world be served? Your life and your will are your own. Throw away your restraints. Throw away the chains that keep you tied down to the ground, to this pit of snakes. Queen Anna has shown us the way. We no longer need to be enslaved by kings, by false, undeserving gods! Queen Anna has blessed us, and I bear her gift to me as a symbol of her sacrifice, to never forget her memory. I vow to you today—Queen Anna will guide us to revolution!"

Shadows erupted from Brennus' feet and spiraled around him before jutting straight up into the sky, a twister of terrible force. Even from his distance, Alek could feel the wind whipping at his face, his skin, the murky heat like the heat haze of a desert. Up above the darkness exploded outward, taking the form of a massive phoenix of fire, glorious wings of black flame spread wide.

"Spread the wings of rebellion!"

Alek stared open-mouthed as the roaring cheers reached a crescendo, as the phoenix let loose a piercing screech and the air became filled with the acrid smell of burning ozone. It shouldn't have been possible. Shadow magic was in the blood of his family, was—Edmund.

"And before I forget," Brennus said, "Prince Alek has joined us today."

Brennus pointed, and all eyes fell on him. Alek felt his blood chill at the hollow gazes that surrounded him on all sides, the horde of people who were now staring at him with murderous intent. They barely seemed human.

Alek ran.

"Morgan," Brennus said.

Alek looked back to see the masked woman leap off the stage, tendrils of the same shadow magic practically launching her forward. She hit the ground running, sword drawn, and Alek spared no more time wondering why there was a second person with shadow magic. He sprinted back into the alleyways, heart pounding in time with every thud of his feet against pavement. All the corridors looked the same. Narrow, entrapping, with far too many obstacles in the way—trash. Alek shoved it all out of the way, scattering a mound of rotting food as he ran, and he chanced a glance behind—Morgan leapt onto the side of a building and kicked off the walls, flipping neatly past the debris before resuming her charge.

It was ridiculous. Alek threw whatever he could behind him, hoping to slow her down, but Morgan only jumped up, seized a hanging pipe, and flung herself onto the roofs. She was more agile than any human, more relentless than a machine. No matter where he turned, Morgan was there following from above. If Alek had felt like a puppet on strings in these alleyways before, now he felt like prey. Knives came flying past, and Alek ducked to avoid the blades whistling past his head, kept running to escape the dark fire tearing through the ground in pursuit.

Only a growing shadow from above warned him of what was coming—Alek drew his sword and blocked with hardly a moment to spare when Morgan leapt onto him, but her momentum alone shunted him back. He rolled away from a powerful strike, the heavy claymore in Morgan's hands upturning the earth, but she had missed her opportunity to kill him.

Now that he was on his feet, Alek could win.

Morgan was, admittedly, skilled, but she was still no match for him. Alek parried her next strike, using the power of her swings against her, and then spun around, kicked her hard in the back of the knee. Her entire leg buckled and Morgan hissed, stumbling to the ground, hand slamming in the dirt. Alek backed off for a moment, content to let her get back up before resuming their duel, but—Morgan spun around and, before Alek could react, threw a handful of dirt in his eyes.

Alek cursed, tripping backwards as the debris blurred his vision with tears, and his mindless swing was casually batted aside. Morgan kicked him in the gut and followed up with a punch to the side of his head. Alek hit the ground, hard. He was amazed he was still conscious. He thought he might throw up, blinded and deafened by the ringing in his head.

"Do you have any honor?" Alek growled.

"Honor? I just do what needs to be done," Morgan said, and then her boot slammed into his hand hard enough to crack the bone. Alek bit back a scream as Morgan kicked the sword out of his hand, and then he felt steel hover over his throat. "Honor is a privilege. Survival is a need. If you can't recognize that, then you deserve to die."

"Wait, Morgan!"

Not Brennus. It was Ayden, the one who had spoken softly before, but now Alek heard that his voice was oddly high-pitched. At his calling, the steel left his throat. Alek had no idea why his execution was being put on hold, but he hurried to blink the dirt from his eyes, his vision clearing just barely enough to see.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't just kill him now," Morgan said. Alek crawled away an inch, only for Morgan to stomp on his back. Releasing an involuntary groan, he coughed out a mouthful of blood.

"Victory isn't gained through closing someone's eyes forever," Ayden said. "It's through making them see through your own. So please…let him live for now."

"You're too soft."

After a moment, Morgan lifted her foot, and Alek raised his head blearily. His last memory was a heavy blow to the back of his head, and then there was only darkness.

Anna was having fun.

Time passed, Sol guiding Anna through the marketplace with a careful hand and Anna keeping her end of their bargain by telling Sol about herself. She omitted enough details to keep her identity hidden, but she was surprisingly comfortable, enough to even tell of her childhood—about Pappa, about all the time she spent alone, about her confiding in the painting of Joan of Arc. On her part, Sol was the best of audiences. She listened attentively, humming along to let Anna know she was still following, and waited for her to stop before asking questions and making comments that were insightful but not invasive.

"I don't remember much about Mamma," Anna said. She hardly realized that she was saying much more than she had intended. "I mostly remember the things she tried to teach me, to be kind, to be optimistic, open-minded."

"You remember the important things, then," Sol said, and Anna looked up to an encouraging smile. "If she could have picked what you would remember of her, I bet she would pick that."

"I think so too, but…thank you for saying that."

Anna glanced down to her lap, comforted by the thought that maybe her mother would approve. How odd that she was pouring her soul out to this stranger—but not a stranger anymore. Sol likely knew more about her than anyone except for Pappa and Elsa, and Elsa had certainly needed much more time.

"But I'm sorry I've just been going on about me. You should tell me about yourself too," Anna said, and Sol hummed once in agreement. "Solaris is a pretty unusual name, right?"

"…Hmm. That seems like a rude question," Sol said coldly.

"I-I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to pry." Anna was stricken by the thought that she might lose Sol's approval. "Sol is a beautiful name, I was just curious where it was from, and—"

"It's all right, I was just kidding! Sorry, sorry." Sol giggled behind her hand. Just as Anna's tumultuous heartbeat began to calm, Sol added, voice once again pensive, "But that really was rude."

"I didn't mean—"

"Kidding! Don't be so serious, Anna." Sol laughed again, and Anna had no idea what to think. "Not a very common name, I know. Thank you, though! I picked it myself."

"Wait, you…picked your name?"

"Oh, look over there!"

Sol rushed them over to one of the vendors. At the stall were all sorts of flowers, roses and lilies and daffodils and carnations and magnolias. Practically squealing with excitement, Sol began examining every one, running her hands over the petals and leaning in to smell the mixing fragrances.

"It's a bit tasteless jamming them all here," Sol said, seemingly unperturbed by the scowl the owner sent their way. "Not much sense of harmony, like you're making them fight for attention. Each flower should have its own role, you know. Can't just have them all bunched up. No order at all."

"Are you interested in flower arrangements?" Anna asked.

"Flower arrangements…?" Sol blinked owlishly, and then suddenly grinned. "I guess you could say that. If I buy some of these, would you help me take them home? I don't have any hands free."

Anna paused. She would help in a heartbeat, except she didn't know how long that would take and she couldn't even walk. It would be best to stay here, close to the castle. But then, it wouldn't be fair to Sol if Anna kept her from buying anything just to keep showing her around the marketplace…

"Maybe I should head back on my own, and that'll free you up—"

"No, I like hanging out!" Sol wrung her hands together and widened her eyes as she stared at Anna. "It's not far from here, I promise. Help me liberate these poor flowers?"

It was hard to refuse, especially when Sol jutted out her bottom lip and pouted.

Carrying two vases full of flowers – which the irritated vendor had prepared while Sol bemoaned how he was torturing them – Anna allowed herself to relax while Sol led the way. Strangely, she walked right past the residential areas and back to the docks, where a bridge connected Corona to the outskirts and more untamed wilderness. Anna kept a tight grip on the flowers as they ascended the slight arc in the bridge, mindful of the water rising to the edge of the vase.

"You don't live in the city?" Anna asked.

"Nooooo, way too crowded here," Sol said. She pointed to the smaller town just past the other side of the bridge, where more modest homes, lower to the ground, were surrounded by trees and foliage. "I live there. Oh, be careful. Jeez, they need to do something about this stupid bridge." Sol slowed down as they began their descent down the arc, and Anna turned to smile at her thoughtfulness.

"It looks nice, though."

"Mhm, you're right!" Sol said, sounding much more pleased than Anna thought the occasion warranted. But then again, Sol always seemed enthusiastic. "It's good to look at the positive side of things."

"Yeah," Anna said. "I guess so, sometimes."

"Not just sometimes." Sol hummed, looking up at the sky as her lips curved into a smile. "No matter what terrible things happen, good things will come. I believe it, I really do. Good always wins."

Sol sounded so full of conviction that Anna didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise.

They traveled on in relative silence for a time, accompanied by the sounds of wildlife. Birds occasionally chirped from the trees and Sol would always peep back, once or twice garnering a confused response; Anna and Sol looked at each other before Sol burst into giggles.

"Oh, we're here!"

Indeed they were. Anna had been so preoccupied with Sol's game that she hadn't kept her eyes on the road, but now she looked up and saw the name inscribed on a wooden sign—Merryvale.

They weren't quite at the village proper yet, but Anna could already tell it was a simple, homey sort of place. Merryvale seemed quite independent from Corona if the groves and fields outside the gates were any indication. Each one was small but neat and orderly, hemmed in with stacked stones and wooden rails which, as Sol explained, helped keep the cattle out of their crops. Other buildings were sheepfolds, dairies, barns, all of them made from thatched straw and wooden logs. Indeed, there was a team packing straw not far away, and at the sight of Sol, the men and women waved and hollered greetings.

Once they were past the fields, they came to the village gate, which once again impressed Anna with its inviting simplicity. Its walls were not stone but wood, the logs fitted together to form a smooth surface planed and polished, and the gate stood wide open, with no guards as far as Anna could see.

"You'll like it here," Sol said, and Anna was inclined to agree. "Everyone is friendly. Maybe too friendly sometimes, honestly. You'll see what I mean."

Anna was still mulling over that when, almost as soon as they entered the village, an elderly couple rushed to greet them.

"Sol!" Beaming at them both, the old man looked simply ecstatic. Beside the man, his wife clasped her hands around Sol's own. "It's so good to see you. Who's this lovely lady?"

"Anna just got here, so I'm showing her around," Sol said. "I'll come by for tea, I promise. Save some of the green-leaf for me!"

They had barely left those two before more people came by to greet Sol, and again, Sol politely peeled herself away with promises of meeting them again some other time. Every time they managed to get away from one person, another stopped them, but Sol never expressed any irritation. She responded enthusiastically, knowing everyone by name, usually knowing some personal detail about them that she asked about—their children, or in the case of the children, how they were doing at their favorite subjects in school. Anna was amused to see that Sol and her charming smile had the people of this town wrapped around her finger. She wondered if Sol knew the power of her influence.

Finally, after meeting what seemed like the entire town's populace, they were alone.

"Seems like you're a celebrity," Anna said.

"Oh, you don't know the worst of it," Sol said, sighing as Anna grinned at her misfortune. "Don't get me wrong, I think they're great, but I can't get any peace."

"Not in the city, not in the village, huh?"

"Exactly." Sol shrugged, heaving out an exaggerated sigh, but Anna had the feeling she was the type of person who thrived on interaction. If not, she was certainly talented at it. "I ended up having to move away from everyone! Buuuuuuut…I like my place. We'll be there soon, just down the valley."

Sol took them past what Anna assumed were the residential areas and into more hilly terrain, which might have seemed like uncultivated space if not for the perfectly cleared path—wide enough for even a horse-driven cart. Anna didn't feel any sort of turbulence in her wheelchair, far from the bumpy journey she expected. In fact, Anna realized, there had to be considerable upkeep. Not a single stone lay on the smooth path. On either side, perfectly symmetrical trees leaned inwards to form a canopy that shaded the path just enough to keep it cool, but allowed enough light to keep it visible. Was Sol wealthy?

When the path opened into the valley clearing, Anna felt her jaw drop.

"You…live here…?"

Sol grinned.

Anna wheeled forward on her own, absentmindedly moving her hands as her eyes roved over the beauty before them. If there could be paradise on earth, then she had surely found it here—in this garden that had to be born of dreams, grander and more dignified by far than the one at the castle.

Everything was in perfect harmony with nature. Her path transitioned to a field of low grass, filled with flowers upon flowers that swayed gently with the breeze. Bordering it was healthy woodland, undisturbed and full of lush, towering trees. But trees as she had never seen before, ones with silvery wood and petals of light pink and rose gold. Multi-colored petals drifted to the ground so slowly that they almost seemed suspended in the air, each one catching the twilight of the setting sun. Anna felt like she was walking through a hall of stars.

"What do you think?" Sol asked.

"It's gorgeous," Anna said.

Golden light slanted down towards the trees, sculpting shadows off the canyon walls in ways Anna was sure was deliberate. It was as though someone had taken note of how the sun would strike every inch of the rock, every hour of the day in every season of the year, and then shaped it accordingly. If Anna hadn't been studying her surroundings so closely, she might have mistaken it to be untouched nature. But it was not. It was nature perfected, touched so gracefully that it was humbly, quietly perfect.

Further down the road were thick bushels of pink roses that formed a ring surrounding a clear pond. White stone cut a path into the midst of the pond where, made of the same shining, silvery wood Anna had seen before, stood a cottage—of sorts. It almost resembled a conch shell, the way it had been carved from what must have been a tree of monolithic proportions, or perhaps the tree had simply twisted in on itself, had grown there that way.

"Has your family owned this place for a long time?" Anna asked.

Sol shook her head, laughing. "No, I don't come from a wealthy family or anything like that. I designed all this myself." Anna simply stared, speechless. Never mind the manpower necessary. How much time must have been invested here? It didn't even seem possible. "Come on! Let me show you the inside."

"Wait," Anna said, and Sol stopped halfway down the path to her home. Suspicion trickling through her thoughts, her hands tensed around her seat. "I don't – I don't understand. All of this, how did—?"

"Hmm…" Sol considered her for a moment. "You'd be surprised what you can do with the right place and enough time on your hands. Back at the orphanage, it was my dream to create a place like this."

"At the orphanage?" Anna loosened her grip, suddenly feeling a little ashamed at her paranoia and then regretting asking about this new, likely painful subject. Sol sounded so solemn compared to her previous cheer. What right did she have to pry? "I'm sorry, and I kept talking about my family earlier—"

"Don't worry about it! I didn't mind…much." Anna was sure it was meant to be reassuring, but she didn't feel any better. Sol grinned. "Besides, I was the one who asked, I wanted to know more about you. I just didn't say anything about the orphanage because I didn't want to throw a sob story at you when we'd just met. Now that would have been selfish."

"It…feels like that was what I was doing," Anna admitted. It had been comforting, though, to have someone listen. Now she wondered if that had been a little unfair. "Do you…want to talk about it?"

"…Mmm."

With that, Sol began humming a quiet melody. She had a beautiful voice with an almost seraphic quality; but, Anna thought, she never wanted to hear her sing again. Sol's voice was marred by a piercing clarity that conveyed sorrow with every note, but there was an undercurrent of raw, bleeding anger there too, hurt that was like a wound. It hurt to listen. Anna was just beginning to wonder if Sol was going to say anything, when: "A lullaby my mother sang for me. It's the best memory I have of them, my parents."

"They…"

"Theyyyyy just didn't want me anymore! I dunno." Sol didn't sound upset. Anna would have understood if she did, but instead she still sounded as cheerful as ever, and the worst part was that it sounded horribly real. "Sorry about the sob story. Anyway, the orphanage wasn't all bad. Like I said, good things come out of bad situations! I met good friends there."

Sol took the flowers from Anna and bounced to the front of her cottage, setting them down on the windowsills. Frankly speaking, they looked discordant from the rest of the place, oddly ordinary in comparison to the ethereal beauty around them, but Sol seemed pleased enough. Anna belatedly realized that Sol had never answered her question about the impossibility of her home.

"Sol! There's been an accident!"

Anna snapped out of her reverie at the panicked call. Sol sobered, wordlessly dashing inside her house and then emerging with a workbag.

"Do you want to stay here or come with me?" Sol asked.

"I – I'll go with you," Anna said, and Sol nodded.

They rushed towards the source of the yell, Sol running ahead this time rather than pushing her along. Anna hardly understood what was happening. What kind of accident? Why did they come to Sol?

Back where the garden began was a small crowd of villagers carrying a woman in their midst, and Anna immediately saw that one of her legs was dangling uselessly, dripping dark blood over the once-pristine grass. Even an inexperienced eye would immediately be able to tell that her left leg was broken, and horribly so. One jagged end of bone was pushing through her flesh, the white gleam of it a disgusting contrast to the red of her blood.

"Lay her down and move away," Sol ordered, setting out a tarp there in the grass. "We don't have time to move her anywhere else."

Sol produced a splint and bandages from her workbag, and Anna watched from the periphery with the others. Luckily, the woman was already unconscious and not writhing in what would have been agony; Sol pulled her leg this way and that with smooth, practiced motions, until the bone slipped back into place. She quickly splinted the leg to hold it steady, and then—

Anna gasped.

Power flared so strongly that Anna felt it run over her skin like static. Immediately, a protective semi-sphere enclosed Sol and the woman, inverted like the bowl of the sky, shimmering like heat haze. Inside, Sol spread her hands over the woman's injured leg and they began to glow with verdant green fire. A heady aroma filled the air, of breeze after a rain, of flowers in bloom, and even watching from a distance Anna could feel a thrill of healing energy that filled her with a sense of well-being.

Magic.

Anna watched unblinkingly. She had never expected to see magic here, of all places. Through the gaps in the splint, she saw raw flesh knit together like patchwork, heard a faint grating as the bone repaired itself in seconds. It was over as soon as it began. Sol made a gesture and the half sphere vanished, taking with it the energy swirling inside. There was no sign to show she had done anything and no sign even that the woman had ever been injured, except for blood still on her body. But she was perfectly healed.

In just a moment, the woman woke. Sol grinned, taking off the splint and helping her stand. Her face was pale and her stance was unsteady, but she was alive and her leg was intact. When Anna heard the muttering of the awed crowd, she couldn't help but find herself in agreement.

"Thank you, Sol, thank you so much—"

"I'm just glad you're all right!" Sol said, guiding the woman to the crowd, where she was received with great care. "If you all would please, please, please make sure she rests for today?"

After more words of thanks, the villagers departed. Sol waved until they were gone, waiting until they were out of sight before breathing out a deep sigh. Anna wondered if Sol would say anything, and she waited. Sol only began stretching this way and that, hands alternating from one hip to the other as she turned with gusto. But Anna couldn't wait anymore. Any other time she would have let Sol bring it up herself, would have let her do it so she would be comfortable, but Anna needed to know.

"You…can use magic," Anna said.

"Really takes a toll on you," Sol said, rolling her neck before turning back towards Anna. "What's wrong?"

Had her sudden burst of hope shown on her face, that Sol would ask her that? Anna did her best to slow her breathing, but her chest was tightening with every second, her heart was beating faster and faster until she could feel the thrumming of blood in her ears.

"You can heal," Anna said again.

"I can," Sol said. She sounded uncharacteristically serious now, and her words came slower and more measured while she stared unblinkingly at Anna. "Is there something I can do for you…Anna?"

Anna didn't want to be hopeful. It was just as hurtful as it was elating that here was a chance. Maybe Sol could heal her too. Maybe Sol could heal whatever was wrong with her that made her feel so unhappy, so weak and pathetic and—wrong. Anna gripped her dress at the knees, her head bowed.

"Heal me," Anna said. Before Sol could answer she added, "It's not just my legs, I don't feel like myself anymore, I don't feel – right. All the time, I just—I just—"

"It's all right," Sol murmured, and Anna looked up. Sol walked towards her and kneeled down in front of her wheelchair. "I'll do my best."

Instantly, the translucent dome rose around them again. Being inside was different from watching from the outside. It was not quite as white as she had first believed, but rather a white that shimmered continuously between all colors of light, from one to the next. Anna felt the looming power even more strongly than before, an age-old force of pure light, of which she only caught the barest glimpse before her comprehension slipped away. It was not to be understood by someone like her, someone not chosen. Instead she only felt golden warmth, and song, and she wondered if Sol felt this all the time.

If she did, then Anna envied her.

But when the dome fell, Anna felt the piercing darkness rise up over her again, like a curtain that had drawn open for the briefest second suddenly being swept closed once more. No. She felt worse, the heavy pressure in her chest rising so thick she could hardly breathe. She had glimpsed something better for that fraction of an instant, and that knowledge of what she was lacking hurt. She could only grasp at a shadow of it now.

"I'm sorry," Sol said.

"It's all right."

"You were right. It's not your legs. It's…something here. Isn't it?" Sol put her hand over her heart, and Anna looked away. "Like something is…broken. I'm sorry, but I can't fix that for you."

"I think I want to go now," Anna said quietly.

"It's going to be all right, Anna," Sol said softly. "Remember to have hope."

Anna sat back, unwilling to move, but she was glad that Sol was pushing her wheelchair from behind.

At least this way she could cry and not be seen.