If he delivers the Dreamheart to the Eldest, nothing will keep it bound."

"Seren and I can stop the warlock and take the Dreamheart from him," Thoster said. The man looked visibly determined, more so than the monk had ever seen him. But his features also bore the slightest touch of doubt.

"Good," Raidon said, "though I advise not touching the stone directly. Watch his approach through the pool— he'll be here soon if he keeps his current pace."

"We'll stop him," Seren said. Then her face pinched as if forcing out her next words. "You're sure you won't need help up there?" She waved vaguely toward the ceiling.

Raidon moved to the exit that the schematic showed spiraled in an almost direct route to the upper cavity. He said, "Thanks for your offer, Seren, but it's better you stop and hold the Dreamheart here "

"Very well. But don't sacrifice yourself, do you hear? I mean to collect what you promised when this is all over."

Raidon surprised himself by laughing. "I will endeavor to stay safe."

*****

Encrustations of ice coated the tunnel ahead of Raidon. It wasn't so thick it blocked his way, but it promised to be a tight squeeze.

The monk approached cautiously and angled his body to slip between two frosted glacier faces. Sidestepping through the narrow vent, he paused and looked into the ice. It seemed empty...

Raidon drew on the Cerulean Sign, asking it to supply him with sight sufficient to see what was tainted.

His eyes widened. He saw that Seren's earlier exclamation about the ice holding people was true. Raidon saw people of many races caught like flies in amber. And young ones too. He winced and looked away.

A child's piping laughter sounded from somewhere ahead. He started, then said, "Who's there?"

More laughter echoed down the cold vent, more distant than before. It was the innocent sound of a small girl— not unlike how his daughter used to laugh when she was at play.

But the sound he'd just heard was not a memory—it was real. Unless he was finally losing his mind.

"Did you hear that, Angul?" The bladed jerked in its sheath, angry at being confined and not in hand.

The monk increased his sidestepping pace through the chilly constriction. Then he was through. The corridor ahead diverged. One path was the one Raidon had charted, it led up to Xxiphu's crown. The other passage he hadn't bothered to investigate in the chamber of seeing.

It was down this passage a half familiar voice out of time asked, "Papa? Do you want to play?"

His core temperature plunged as goose bumps swept across his skin. Raidon's mouth fell open. The light of the Cerulean Sign on his chest dimmed.

"A-Ailyn?"

A hint of movement flashed in the lesser tunnel. He spied the silhouette of a girl with unbound hair. "Catch me if you can!"

"Who are you?" Raidon shouted down the tunnel. The girl's voice was like his daughter's, but not quite a match.

Fading laughter was his answer.

The monk sprinted into the corridor. It wasn't the tunnel that led to the Eldest. He knew following this diversion was a bad idea. Yet he couldn't stop. Despite being someone who fancied himself ruled by reason first and emotion second, sometimes emotion's need was equal to reason's. Or, he realized as the tunnel walls flashed past, sometimes brute emotion burst reason's bonds.

"Stop!" he called.

"Only if you catch me!" came the voice—even fainter, as if the distance between them had increased. Raidon doubled his already swift pace by deciding to throw all caution to the wind. If a pit or larger cavity opened in the corridor ahead, he wouldn't be able to stop in time to save himself from a fall.

Angul twitched in the sheath again, as if trying to catch the monk's attention. But he was determined not to be distracted from finding out what farce was being played out on his account. He hoped it was not a farce... His heart beat more swiftly than his exertion alone could account for.

He raced around a short curve in the tunnel and collided with a wall. He saved himself some pain by rolling into it and absorbing his excess momentum across his whole body.

But Raidon had come to a dead end, and it was empty.

The goose bumps returned. He shouted, "Who are you? Didn't you want to play?"

Tm right here, Papa." The voice came from behind him.

Raidon whirled, his heart in his throat.

There stood, plain as day, a small human child, about five years old, with dark hair. In one hand she held a tiny, mahogany-handled mithral bell. She gave it a little ring.

"I love the gift you brought me," the girl said.

"I..." Raidon's mind refused to resolve what he was seeing. The girl looked like his lost daughter, at least in rough strokes. Long black hair, pale eyes, and upturned nose. But it wasn't her. Was it? No, of course it couldn't be.

Ailyn was dead.

"Many things are possible in Xxiphu," the girl said.

Raidon released a short breath like the swift exhalation he made striking a foe. He said, "You can read my mind?"

The girl who reminded him so much of Ailyn cocked her head. "Don't be silly. You're silly!"

Raidon took a step forward. "Who are you really? You're not my daughter. She died a long time ago."

The girl's face fell. She nodded dejectedly. "Yes. I died. All alone without you to save me."

Anger warmed his face then. "You're not Ailyn! You hardly even resemble my daughter! What are you?"

The five-year-old looked up and caught Raidon with her blue-eyed gaze, still watery with unshed tears. She said, "I know you're not my papa." The bell in the girl's hand melted, becoming a rag doll instead, with silver buttons for eyes. "But I have lost my Papa. Can you help me find him?"

Raidon blinked, wondering just where reality ended and his own neurosis began. He wondered if his mind was being assaulted by some abolethic trick.

The monk relaxed his shoulders and shook his head. "I'm sorry, child. I don't even think you're real." He began to move past the girl. "I have something very important I must attend to."

"You don't think I'm real?" the girl screamed, her voice taking on the hearty volume of a child's tantrum. "I am here! I am alive!" The faux Ailyn reached forward and punched her chubby fist into Raidon's calf. Her hand moved right through his body as if she were a ghost.

Pain exploded in his leg. He fell as the muscles in his limb gave out all at once.

Luckily the girl didn't press her advantage. It took Raidon a heartbeat to shut the pain out. He rolled away and stood in a single, smooth motion. Back on his feet, the monk swept Angul free of its sheath. The pain was smoothed away by the sword's instant attention. Simultaneously, a portion of his anxiety dimmed, leaving him feeling clearheaded and calm.

The image of the girl remained. Not merely a trick of the mind then, if Angul could sense it too.

"You are real, in some sense," Raidon allowed, keeping the blade between himself and the small form. "But I am not your father, nor do I know where to find him. But—if you let me pass without touching me as you just did, I can come back for you. How does that sound?"

The child's face grew hopeful. "Promise? I don't like it here at all. It's scary."

"Yes. That it is. Now, step aside so we don't accidentally collide, all right? When I finish what I must do, I'll find you here. Is it a deal?"

The temperature of the Cerulean Sign dropped. As it did, the girl's features shuddered. She gasped as if in pain.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He took a half step closer.

Angul said, She is a memory loosed by the Eldest's unconscious to delay you. It will not agree to your bargains.

Sweep it away.

"She's only a little girl," Raidon countered, his voice pleading. She is a remnant of a little girl, a hollow shell filled with aberration that must be purged, said Angul.