The crystal glowed in William's palm.
He had carried it out of the mountain cave, wrapped in cloth, held close to his chest. The vision of the Saint's wife—her voice, her face, her love—replayed in his mind over and over. She had believed in him. She had hoped for him. She had loved him.
Aldric walked beside him, his steps measured, his eyes forward.
"She was a remarkable woman," Aldric said.
"You knew her?"
"She was my grandmother."
William stopped walking. "Your grandmother?"
Aldric turned to face him. "I told you I've been tracking the Saint's bloodline. I didn't mention that I'm part of it."
William stared at him. "You're the Saint's grandson?"
"His daughter's son. The child she was holding in the vision. That was my mother." Aldric's voice was quiet. "I've been carrying this
