The memory crystal sat on William's table for three days.
He couldn't bring himself to touch it again. The vision of the Saint and his healer—the woman who had tried to save him, who had believed in him, who had shown him another way—replayed in his mind over and over. She had offered him hope. She had offered him a choice. And he had chosen revenge.
William stared at the crystal, his hands empty, his heart heavy.
Elara found him on the third evening.
"You've been sitting here for hours," she said.
"I've been thinking."
"What about?"
"About the Saint. About his healer. About the choices we make."
She sat beside him. "And what have you decided?"
"That I need to find out what happened to her. The Saint's healer. The woman who tried to save him."
Elara was silent for a moment. "She
