Dull thuds shook the blissful emptiness of dreamless sleep. Arn tried to ignore them, to return to the serene stillness within which he felt content. The thuds intensified. Distant murmurs followed, an indistinct medley of voices that grew clearer with every second. And then again - thud, thud, thud.

Arn sat up. He opened his eyes - a futile action. Darkness was all around though it no longer carried serenity. Yesterday's memories slowly crept to his consciousness, and he questioned their reality. The thought of having briefly escaped the cell only to be dragged back seemed like a terrible joke to him. It couldn't be real, he thought. It had to have been a joke his mind played.

Thud, thud, thud. More voices, they grew louder, and he could now make out two patterns, both male. One deep and familiar.

No, it couldn't have been a dream - he decided that at least. It couldn't have been a figment of his mind, for the events were too strange. He never had dreams like that, well, not aside from the forest dreams. What were those about, he wondered? Still, deep down, he knew that what took place yesterday was real. The fresh air he recalled was real; the tall pines were real. De'al was real. Then - it - had to be real too. The shimmering light, green and blue weaving into each other, he could still see it in his mind's eye. It was beautiful and unnerving, too beautiful to exist, yet there it was.

He didn't wish to continue the memory. No, he thought, what came next wasn't something he could deal with just yet. It'll have to wait.

Then there was De'al's power. He saw it with his own eyes, the old legends come to life, back in the world once more. It lent credence to all that Rana told him. He hated that. She could have been telling the truth after all.

He wondered what it meant about the world that Rana, of all people, was the one to give him the truth. She didn't give me anything, he thought. It was a trade. Truth for freedom. Now he had to earn his freedom back, that is, if he even had any, to begin with. No, he corrected himself again, he did have freedom, and he will have it again.

What sounded like thuds resolved into approaching steps. The murmur too grew clearer - the men were searching - for what, he couldn't tell.

The only sound that Arn heard from the guards during the past weeks was the loud click of the lock when they entered his cell. He wasn't even sure that there was more than a single guard. So who was making all this noise?

Warm highlights glistened into view upon the rough rock wall some ten feet ahead. The pale light bobbed in concert with the distant steps; it expanded and grew brighter as Arn watched. Even this much light caused him pain, and Arn shielded his eyes. The steps ceased. Keys clanked just outside the door, the lock clicked loudly, and the door creaked against the frame. Something slammed into the door on the other side, and it creaked once more but remained stuck.

Arn's heart raced. He felt the blood pulsing in his neck. The door to his cell burst open with a loud crack and swung all the way back upon its hinges. It smashed against the stone wall and set loose a cloud of dust. Light spilled into his tiny cell, and several men rushed in. He could barely hear their words against the loud thumping of his heart. One of them bent towards Arn. He wore a concerned expression, his brows knitted, and his mouth moved. The man reached out with his hand, but Arn recoiled and pressed himself hard against the stone wall. Pity flashed upon the man's face.

Pity, Arn thought, I don't want anyone's pity! His fists clenched, and he glared at the man. Then, bolstered by his newfound resolve, Arn rose to his feet, and as he did, sound returned to the world.

"Are you hurt?" the man repeated.

"Hurt?" Arn asked. He looked down at himself; his clothes were tattered, black dirt hid under each nail, and he stood in a murky, wet puddle. "No," he said.

The man's face twitched. "He's in shock," the man said to the others.

"I'm not in shock. I'm fine."

"It's alright," he said to Arn.

"Don't treat me like a child."

"Let's get you out of here. Can you walk?"

"I'm not a cripple."

"I didn't say you were."

Arn spared a last look at the cell. How long had he spent there, he wondered. The wall through which De'al had come mere hours earlier appeared as solid as ever, not a crack nor stone out of place. The man who spoke to him earlier led Arn through long dark passages and up several flights of stairs. They finally reached what appeared to be a large hall. Arn hadn't yet considered who these people were. Not city constables, he thought - their uniforms weren't quite right.

A sudden wave of fear washed over him. If not the city constables - Arn looked closer at the man's uniform; he wore a dark grey overcoat, brown pants, and tall black boots. But his eyes focused on the small emblem on the man's left arm. "The Inspectorate," Arn muttered.

"What's that?" the man asked him.

"No, it's nothing."

The man frowned but let the matter go. They passed through the hall and into a small foyer. The man gave Arn a thick fur coat, "wear this," he said. Arn obliged.

Arn's eyes gradually acclimated to the light, and by the time they stepped outside, he had to squint for just a short while. The sky above was overcast, and a light breeze blew from the west. He glanced back at an ancient but very ordinary-seeming clan house. He was almost disappointed by the unremarkable structure. The clan house stood alone in the woods, far enough from Kalarhan that he couldn't hear the town.

He jumped when someone put a hand on his shoulder.

"Ossagar?" Arn gasped after he turned.

"The Inspectorate is here. Everything will be alright," the man said gruffly. Arn stared wordlessly. "Yes, well," Ossagar continued after a beat, "we caught her, we caught Clanless."

"Who?" Arn asked.

"Rana - The Clanless," Ossagar clarified.

"Oh," was all Arn could manage in response. He'd never heard the monicker before.

"They said you were in shock - understandable, understandable," Ossagar nodded.

"I'm not - "Arn started.

"The Inspectorate is here to enforce Elar'Saga's teachings," Ossagar proudly proclaimed. "We'll take you home to your family."

Arn only nodded in agreement. Ossagar put his hand on Arn's back and guided him to the same carriage they rode to Kalarhan weeks ago. Arn didn't look around. Instead, he climbed into the carriage and sat on a bench. A soft, luxurious bench.

Ossagar followed Arn and sat on the opposite side. He smiled in what was likely a sympathetic gesture though it conveyed no comfort that Arn could discern. Some moments later, Ossagar audibly exhaled and frowned. He took out a flask and took a sip from it. Arn wondered whether it already contained the blue liquid from the small vile around the man's neck. A strange thing to wonder, he thought, of all the things, this is what I recall.

"You must have been through much - but it is safe now," Ossagar reassured Arn." Don't think that the Inspectorate doesn't recognize good work and sacrifice. You put yourself on the line. Thank you for your loyalty and your part in keeping our great Nedreal the way Elar'Saga intended."

Ossagar offered him a letter with a wax seal that bore the emblem of the Inspectorate. "Your letter of completion - with distinction, I might add."

Distinction? He didn't complete the mission. All his notes were lost. He was captured. He looked up at Ossagar, who must have read his thoughts from his expression.

"There is more to what we do than recording infractions. Your test was graver and more challenging than most, and you didn't break. That is what the Inspectorate values, son."

Arn cringed. He might not have joined Rana - the Clanless, he thought - but she sowed the seeds of doubt in him. He realized that De'al wasn't mentioned. Perhaps they didn't know of him - how could they? He burrowed a tunnel, miles long, and then closed it back up.

"You'll have time to recover at your home, with your family." Arn nodded at Ossagar's words but kept his gaze on the wax seal. "You'll also have a few days to come to your senses while we journey to Nysaros. My advice to you is to pray to Elar'Saga, and he will guide you. It was he that put us on the road to you because you are part of his plan."

He put them on the road to me? Arn wondered and looked up at Ossagar again. "What do you mean, he put you on the road to me?"

"Indeed!" Ossagar cried, and Arn recoiled from the volume. "He comes in guises, of man or beast, and often leads by subtle signs. He sent a vision to me - of which I won't speak - but it was clear enough, and we are here, are we not?"

"I sometimes have dreams that feel like visions," Arn blurted out before he could stop himself.

At that, Ossagar leaned in, and a fire lit in his eyes. It burned with an intensity that wasn't there a moment ago. Arn knew he shouldn't have revealed this, but it was too late. "Would you describe it?" Ossagar asked, and though it was a question, Arn felt it was closer to a demand.

"It's just snow, in a forest - it leads me nowhere, but it seems real. Perhaps not a vision after all," he shrugged. Ossagar regarded him for a minute, then sat back up, and the fire in his eyes diminished, though some remnant of it lingered still.

"Perhaps it isn't for us to interpret here and now," Ossagar said, and Arn nodded. "I must ask you some questions, but I dare say you can do without them for the time being. We have a long road ahead and time for questions yet. Rest for now." He said and left the carriage.

Arn heard him climb up to the front, and soon they were moving, away from Kalarhan and away from the disaster that was his first inspection. He pulled the curtain from the window and watched the trees speed by. It looked almost like what he saw on his way out of Nysaros. The thought of home overcame him, it washed over the walls of numbness like an avalanche, and the fears from his dark cell rushed into him again. Arn covered his face and wept for a long time. He cried until his tears ran dry and until all he felt was emptiness.