Her eyes glazed, concern etched deep in the wrinkles on her forehead. Eramus brushed away the tear that rolled down her cheek. "I have to do this. If I don't confront him now, he may never stop chasing us. Hopefully after this, we'll never have to see him again. You'll be safe with my aunt and uncle. Just promise me you won't leave their sides."
Evree nodded and wrapped her arms around his back. Eramus kissed the top of her head.
"I don't like this," said his mother. "You shouldn't go alone. Why not let—"
"I have to do this alone. I won't put anyone else in danger. Once I do, we can leave. All of us…together."
Though they all nodded in agreement, fear lingered in their expressions. Eramus headed for the door, ready to deal with the situation once and for all, but a loud gasp brought him to a halt just as his fingers slid over the knob.
He turned just in time to witness Yelene's body go limp. Aldeth caught her around the waist and guided her to the floor, keeping her head nestled against his arm. Eramus rushed to her side and crouched down. "What happened?"
"She's having a vision," replied Aldeth, his tone even as he brushed the strands of blonde hair from her face. Eramus had to give his uncle credit. Staying calm with his wife passed out in his arms would be no easy feat, but Aldeth probably had plenty of practice over the years.
Yelene's chest rose and fell with her steady breathing, but her eyes remained closed. Had he not known better, Eramus would have thought her only sleeping.
"How long do they last?" asked Eramus.
"It depends. They're all different. Sometimes only seconds; others have lasted several hours."
Hours? He didn't have hours to wait. Eramus stood and started for the door again. He needed to face his father and leave Izarden for good. That was the only way the people he cared about would remain safe.
"I'll be back soon," he said over his shoulder. "Please stay here until I return."
The small village was alive and busy in the noonday sun. He passed several wagons and a few men on their way back from the fields, their faces barely discernible through the dirt and sweat. Though the last few weeks had been difficult, Eramus knew he would miss the people he'd come to know so well over the last decade.
Eramus rounded the corner of a cottage and nearly collided with Arnan's thick form. The man held Eramus's shoulders to stabilize him, then quickly dropped them to his sides. "Eramus." Arnan stared at him for a moment before clearing his throat. "I was just on my way to see you."
"See me?"
Days ago, words like that would have made Eramus's heart race. Arnan had treated him terribly since the moment he'd revealed his power, but there was nothing threatening in Arnan's dark eyes now. Things had changed.
Arnan shifted his weight, hesitation stalling him from continuing. "I needed…there is something I wish to discuss with you."
Eramus lifted a brow. As curious as he was, now wasn't really a good time. He needed to go to the meadow and see if his father was there. The sooner he could cut ties with the man, the better. Arnan and his discussion would have to wait.
"I'm sorry, but there is something urgent I need to take care of right now."
Arnan's shoulders slumped as a mixture of relief and disappointment flooded his expression. "Very well. Just stop by when you finish…whatever it is you're doing."
Eramus shot past him, but a firm grip on his shoulder pulled him to a stop. Arnan stared deep into his eyes. The vulnerability that reflected at Eramus surprised him. He'd never seen the man look so haunted, his gaze almost pleading. "It's important, Eramus. Please come."
He released his hold on Eramus's tunic and walked away. Arnan was a hard man to understand, but ever since Eramus had saved Evree and healed him, the hostility had faded from his demeanor. Soon, Verascene would be Eramus's new home, and Arnan's grudge would hold little consequence, but he still preferred to leave his village on good terms. That included Arnan. But there were other things he had to prioritize right now.
Eramus left the edge of the village and followed the narrow dirt path to the meadow. His heart raced. There was so much he wanted to say to the man in the black cloak, the stranger who had concealed his identity to hide the misdeeds of his past.
His stomach twisted. Morzaun wasn't his father; not really. The man had been absent for his entire life and spent his own destroying innocent lives. Even though Sytal had murdered Eramus's mother, vengeance wasn't the answer. It didn't change what happened, and it would never heal the pain. His father's lust for revenge had sent him on a path into darkness, and Eramus wanted no part in it.
Dark clouds loomed overhead, and the air grew heavy. Eramus walked through the sea of colorful flowers until he reached the center of the meadow. A figure near the tree line caught his eye, and Eramus froze. Morzaun stood where sunlight met the shadows of the forest, staring in his direction. Zeeran leaned against the trunk of the oak several feet away, annoyance filling his expression.
They were waiting for him.
Eramus squared his shoulders. This conversation would likely not go well, but it was the only way he could move on. He knew the truth, but he needed to hear it from his father's own mouth. It was time for Morzaun to be honest with him, and Eramus wasn't leaving the meadow or Izarden until his father confessed to everything.
