Chapter 9 ~ The Elder's Advice

                                    

                                          

    Tarion glanced back at the Library, unable to suppress a nip of concern as his thoughts darted towards Morana once more. He was trying to respect her desire to be alone and had kept himself occupied by walking around the gardens with Rehema, but keeping his mind busy would require some other form of distraction.
    He faced forward as Rehema cleared her throat. Her piercing silver gaze watched him in an almost unnerving manner. "So she is certain the dream was a warning?" The Elder asked. 
    Tarion nodded. "But I couldn't get anything more out of her than what I already told you." Rehema hummed thoughtfully. "Have you had any visions similar to her dream?" Tarion queried.
    A visible weight settled over the ancient Fae, briefly highlighting the few creases in her face. "No. I haven't had any visions for an unusual length of time. I suspect it is because Drenusha's own Sight remains obscured."
    "As hers worsens, so will mine and the Sight of any other gifted with it. While this blindness lasts, Morana might be the only one able to receive premonitions from the gods. Her dream must be taken seriously."
    Tarion sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. "I was afraid you'd say that. Do you have any idea what it might mean?" Rehema halted and turned towards him. Tarion stiffened, not liking the look of resignation that settled across her features. "What is it?"
    "I'm not sure what the undead hands represent. There are many explanations for them, both literal and figurative. But the part about her magic burning her alive... Such things have nearly happened before, haven't they?"
    Tarion closed his eyes and gave a sharp dip of the chin. It had happened for the first time when he was trying to teach her how to delve all the way into her magic. Her power had overwhelmed her and nearly burned her from the inside out. It had taken her days to recover from the ordeal, and she still bore some scars from it. 
    "I know it's something neither of you like to consider, so I will only say this once and let you choose whether or not to tell her. I believe the dream may be symbolic of what lies in her future."
    Tarion's eyes flew open and he stared at the Elder with unmasked horror. "You think she's going to die?"
    Rehema turned away, her voice falling low and soft. "Even her ancestor wrote of his belief that he might've had to destroy himself to defeat Astaroth. That was always the fate of the Phoenixes in stories. They are creatures of power and beauty, born to become ashes, and then reborn in flames." 
    She clasped her hands together and resumed walking, leaving Tarion to gape after her. After a moment, he managed to recover herself and catch up. "But I did not have the dream myself," Rehema said. "So I will not be the one to actually interpret it. That will be up to Morana. You can share my words with her or keep them to yourself. Such is your choice."
    Tarion gave a slow nod, brows furrowed in confusion. Though it wasn't confusion about whether or not he'd tell her about Rehema's beliefs. That choice was already made. Morana didn't need anything more to worry about right now. 
    "By the way, Delmar returned to Arcan. He said something about dealing with Helhounds instead of a Prince and Phoenix," Rehema chuckled.
    "Helhound," Tarion scoffed. "That's one I haven't been called before. I suppose it's fitting though, since I'm technically mated to the Heiress of Hel." 
    "Something tells me Hadeon's Hel will not be the same at the end of all this. Morana might be his Heiress, but she is not cruel."
    "I think you're right. She won't want to be in charge of overseeing doomed and tortured souls for all eternity. Except for Astaroth's. She'll probably ensure his suffering. Maybe Rhidian's too." He pursed his lips, then asked, "How are things going on the Isle of Lorn? Delmar mentioned you received a letter."