After Gavião read the note, silence reigned in the room. Gavião's head was bent, pain evident on his face.

A single word broke the silence. Callas said, in a choked voice, "No." Without glancing at any of the others, she whirled and made for the door.

Galvin said, "Wait--"

She interrupted him, "No, Galvin." Two more long steps and she was gone, her footsteps receding down the hall.

Galvin started after her, but Gavião caught his shoulder, stopping him. "Let her go. There's nothing we can do for her right now."

Galvin's eyes were dark with pain, but he nodded. He cleared his throat and said, "Matthew, would you do us the favor of following her and seeing where she goes?" Matthew nodded and left.

Callas stopped to grab her cloak and her journal, fighting the tears that were blurring her vision. She walked swiftly through the halls of the Temple towards the stables, brushing past several clerics who were up late and surprised to see their Headmistress roaming the halls at that hour.

Out in the stables, she saddled Dream, barely needing to look at what she was doing as her practiced hands worked, seemingly on their own. Dream asked, his mental voice sorrowful, Where are we going? He shivered his skin as he felt the waves of grief coming off of Callas.

"Away, Dream. I can't stay here right now."

We're going alone?

"I'll keep us safe. But, Dream..." She fastened the last strap and leaned her head against his flank. "I can't stay. I have to get out. I have to run, for a little bit." She mounted and the pair moved to the door of the stables. Callas touched the clasp of her cloak and murmured a few words, and they phased into Faerie. Another few words and the bracelet on her left wrist began to glow with a bright white light. And then Dream stretched himself into a gallop, down the road that led out of Madrid.

Matthew leaned on the stable door, knowing that no horse in the stable could match Dream's speed. Following her would be useless, especially if she didn't want to be followed. He wondered what had just happened. Who the hell was Aru? Why had news of his death sent his volatile Headmistress into what seemed like deep grief? He shook his head and headed back up to the Temple to report.

Callas rode through Madrid. Dream's hoofs were silent, striking ground not in the material world but in Faerie. When they came to the gates, the guards stood and attempted to stop her, but she rode through them--and then through the closed gates.

One of them looked at the other and asked, "What the hell was that?" The other shook his head in response.

As they ran down the road, Callas closed her eyes, trusting Dream to keep an eye on where they were going. On and on they galloped, Callas trying to outdistance the grief that was overwhelming her. Her father and Aru, both gone within a day of each other. A few days before that, having to watch Galvin be killed by Nik. And the acknowledgement, quiet under the grief, that she had loved Aru from the first time she'd dreamed of him, watching him read with his funny little spectacles perched on his nose.

Tears ran down her face and the wind dried them on her cheeks. She let the rhythm of Dream's hooves comfort her and calm her, for the moment not thinking of anything, letting everything fall away.

They came to the banks of a large river just as the cloak warned her that she had only a few minutes left in Faerie. She cancelled the power, phasing herself and Dream back into the material world. She dismounted and leaned against Dream, staring out over the water, listening to the quiet sound of the river muttering to itself.

The horse and the woman might have been statues, in the waning moonlight.

Callas said quietly, "It's not fair, Mother, but nothing ever is, is it?"

"No, it's not." Callas turned to see Epona standing beside her, also looking out over the river. Her mother, though still beautiful, was marked with grief, shadows under her eyes. "But his death wasn't senseless, daughter. He died for something he believed in."

Callas asked, "What happened? Help me understand."

"He knew that once Morgan realized that Gavião had killed Modred, Gemma was in great danger. Morgan probably would have pushed her usual beating too far, and your sister would have died. And without her, everything is lost, she will be instrumental in defeating Lazlo. The only way to get Gemma out was to distract Morgan long enough to allow Tennant to do his work, and the only way to do that was for Aru to reveal himself as a traitor and then attack her."

"And Morgan lived through that?"

"She died. Aru strangled her. But remember that she is a sorceress, daughter. She had a contingency on herself that resurrected her." Epona sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "Aru had no such spell."

"And you didn't do anything?"

Epona looked at Callas steadily. "There are rules, child. The main one being that we cannot directly interfere in the lives of mortals. We work through intermediaries, because if we meddled directly, there would end up being war between the gods themselves. And that would tear the world apart, quite literally. I was there, as was Aine, but we could do nothing except be there with him as he died."

Fresh tears were running down Callas' cheeks. "At least...at least he didn't die alone."

"No, he didn't. He may have been one of mine, but Aine loved him well, also. It was a good death, Callas. He's gone home now, reunited with Beatrice."

"It's still not fair. There was so much I never got to discuss with him, so much I wasn't able to tell him." Callas gazed out over the dark river, her eyes distant. There was no anger in her posture, for once, simply sorrow. She leaned against Dream, closing her eyes. "How many more times do you plan on doing this to me, Mother?"

"It's not me, but the world and your enemies. If I could, I would spare you, but I cannot."

"I can't do this any more, Epona. I can't hold any more of this. It gets worse every time, and I simply do not have the strength."

"You do, child. Your soul is strong enough to withstand the pain. Lean on Galvin and Gavião, learn from them. I told you before that your heart knows the right path. It still does. Aru died in part to show you where that path is, to tell you to choose your course out of love, not vengeance. Don't waste that gift."

Callas had thought she was all out of tears, but those words opened the floodgates once more. She buried her face in her hands and wept.

After a moment, she felt Epona's hand on her hair, and raised her head. Epona said, "I must depart, child. Remember what I've said." She put her hand on Dream's neck, leaning in and murmuring a few quiet words to him. Then, between one heartbeat and the next, she was gone.

Callas sank down, her legs folding underneath of her on the sandy bank of the river. Dream nuzzled her hair as she sobbed, letting all of the sorrow she'd accumulated in the last few weeks pour out of her. Finally, her well ran dry, and at last she raised her head, rubbed her eyes, and rose to her feet. "We'd better be getting back, Dream." He turned and she mounted, pulling herself into the saddle effortlessly. She leaned forward and scratched his neck. "Thank you for your patience, love."

You're welcome. I do have one thing that may comfort you.

"What?"

Aru could read your thoughts, Callas. He couldn't help hearing what you were thinking. He died knowing everything you would have said to him, because you already had--even if you weren't acknowledging it to yourself.

"I still wish I had gotten the chance to say it to him." Callas' voice was quiet.

Would you have?

"Perhaps. One day." She sighed. "Shall we go?"

They phased into Faerie and set out along the road back to Madrid. Callas let herself sink into the rhythm of Dream's stride, the motion pouring balm on the parts of her heart that felt as if they were open wounds, newly empty places in her soul. Unlike before, the pain seemed as if it might be bearable, as if she might be able to learn how to withstand it after all.

She hoped.

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