The sun broke over the horizon just as Jenya opened his door. He and Kelnai had spent close to a day setting, resetting and refiguring the wards. The first wards they had set would keep only insects out, the second only animals, and then he and his wife had warded themselves out of their own home. They'd been laughing too hard to fix anything for a quarter of an hour. Even Shorin had laughed, standing on the other side of the barrier.
     The time was worth it. All the doors and windows in the residence were warded against pests, beasts, outsiders and bad weather. Not needing to worry about installing a multitude of latches was worth the day of headaches. The wards had held for over three and a half years, making the home of his wife and son possibly the safest place in Sharan'akar. To Jenya that would have been worth an eternity of headaches.
     His smile faded as he took in the walls of the main hall. Broad streaks of bright paints - red, violet, a pale pink, blues - covered the wooden paneling. Jenya sighed heavily, letting the bags full of maps and books fall to the floor.
     "Saerifahl!" The Sun-Chylde roared. He heard a clatter - the sound of expensive glass breaking - before a petite, shorthaired woman found her way into the hall. "What happened to the walls?"
     Her grey-blue eyes squinted for the barest fraction of a second. "I taught Shorin how to paint." A grin split her face. The small woman was so vivacious - she seemed to bounce with energy even when she stood still.
     "Don't you usually use a canvas for that?" After the words had left his mouth Jenya remembered that reason was usually a weak weapon against Saerifahl. "Clean it up, please. Paint doesn't belong on a wall." The short woman with dirty blonde hair nodded and skipped away, hopefully to find something to remove the paint. Probably only to cause more trouble. Jenya gathered the satchels, moving through the hall to the room at the back of the house that held all the books, maps, sketches, notes and random paintings he had acquired.
     Kelnai's eyes did not leave the diagrams she was studying, but it was obvious from the change in her demeanor that she heard Jenya open the door. Her shoulders stiffened, her lips quirked in a half-smile.
     "Shorin was hoping you wouldn't return." Kelnai made seemingly random marks on the diagram, but they most likely made sense in her mind. Her hair had gotten longer, wavier since Jenya had left. He noticed, but didn't say anything about it. It wasn't that important, just small things he noticed when he'd stayed away for too long.
     "Almost didn't," Jenya set the bags of manuscripts on the table. "But," he paused.
     "I know," Kelnai made several more marks then set the sketches aside. Her eyes met Jenya's.
     "You know." Jenya nodded. Kelnai was more of a true Seer than Mal'kenar ever had been. It was slightly frightening, knowing that the woman before him probably understood him better than he could ever hope to understand himself. In an odd way, it was also comforting. "I didn't expect any Kael'adahn to be at Kashan's camp. He sends his regards, anyways, and apologizes for getting you into this mess."
     "I could have said no. I'm in this 'mess' because I choose to be, and I know you wouldn't survive long if left to your own devices." Her voice lilted teasingly to take the sting out of the words, but she was right. Jenya had proven in the Library that without Kelnai and his son by his side, there wasn't much in this world he was willing to fight for. "It was nice of him to offer an apology anyways."
     "It's probably just a stroke of luck that Kashan, Dyta'lek and I were able to take the four of them down. One almost grabbed the bags of books. It's probably just a stroke of luck," Jenya repeated, shaking his head.
     "You met the Coranavayel," Kelnai spoke flatly. She ignored the surprise in Jenya's eyes. "And you still believe in strokes of luck?" Her hands clasped each other on the desk, a sign of discontentment.
     "Just how much do you see when you Dream?" Jenya folded his arms across his chest without thinking about it. The gesture didn't mean that he was frightened or becoming defensive, just tired.
     "We'll address that later, Jenya. Answer my question." Kelnai too seemed very tired. The war for this world seemed to take a lot out of everyone involved.
     "I don't know. But it seems that until very recently, this world had been left to its own devices. Luck was all most people had. It's a little hard to turn around all of a sudden and just accept that there is a design. My best friends, my mother and father, and even you have died at the hands of this... dark thing that wants this world hopeless and bleak. If there is more to this world than luck, I don't understand any of it." His eyes were alight with a fire fed by the need for revenge.
     "Torankhayel killed me, but so what? I'm still here." And so are your parents... She leaned back into the cushioning of her chair, letting her hands fall into her lap. Now was not the best time to voice her thoughts.
     "Which you still have to explain to me. Dead people usually stay dead, from my experience." His voice was thick with sarcasm.
     "They stay dead when they are supposed to, dear. Acharya has a pet phoenix." She spoke so simply, as if those two statements were supposed to solve all the riddles of this world.
     "None of that makes any sense." He looked around the room, at all the sketches that had been reclaimed from Dharin's cart. Jenya's shoulders tensed, and he realized he was being more than a little stubborn and bratty. He sighed. "Explain it to me, please. I'll never get it any other way."
     That little smile returned. "Since you said please. The Kevarhin ceremony is meant to grant Acharya - Torankhayel, actually, but that's another story - control over his Magi. I don't know what he, it," she corrected herself. "I don't know what it does, but shards of energy race through the veins of those 'blessed' and somehow a link is formed." She paused, remembering how and why she had screamed so piercingly during the ceremony.
     "But," Jenya prompted.
     "But I'd already been claimed, so the 'invading' energies solidified and began shredding my veins, then my muscles. I'd been bleeding profusely internally for half an hour before any lacerations actually appeared on my skin. That had never happened before and even though Torankhayel knew what it meant, after the ceremony he was too weak to have complete control. Acharya had me carried to the Garden and Tahdisha healed all my wounds, made my heart beat again."
     "Acharya and Torankhayel are supposed to be the same being," Jenya looked confused, again.
     "That's not what one of those books would tell you." She gestured to the bag sitting on the desk. When Jenya nodded she searched for the thinnest manuscript, the one that had contained the words "Triune Entity." Kelnai thumbed through the pages, looking for the passages and pictures. Finding the triple diagrams, she set the booklet before Jenya. That stunned look covered his features again. He wanted to ask how much Kelnai knew, how she could possibly know so much but it would have to wait. This was more important.
     "I don't understand Kaer'melthek well enough to get any of this." He set his hands on the desk, leaning over the booklet anyways.
     "I know, but look at the diagrams. I know they look familiar. I know you've seen them all, in the... flesh." It wasn't quite the right word, but it was the best she could do.
     Jenya had recognized the face of the Acharya at first glance, but it took concentration to place the other faces. Doubtful, dark renderings of Corridan, Lyahr, Dalnek, Felanya and Varesh stared blankly at him.
     "All right, I recognize them. They're Magi, but I don't understand. What does it mean?"
     "They were normal people, once. The script next to each triple portrait gives accounts of the deeds of each, what they had done before this world started to fall." A flicker in her eyes told Jenya to think, that there was something there he should grasp.
     "That makes them as old as the Acharya." He straightened, feeling a headache beginning in the back of his skull. "They're the Six, aren't they," his voice came across low and tired. Jenya's head tilted to the side, as if his neck didn't want to allow him to continue looking straight ahead.
     Kelnai only nodded. "They were, at some point. In some worlds there were seven, but I suppose that is not of much relevance now."
     "They were?"
     "This world has been falling into the dark for over a millennium now. This booklet states, basically, that these six Magi are possessed by Torankhayel and are each actually three personalities in a single shell."
     "Five," Jenya corrected. "There are five now, Varesh is dead. I... I killed him, snapped his neck." A tinge of remorse must have showed on Jenya's face.
     "Judging from his description, you shouldn't be sorry. If you hadn't killed him, one of the others would have." She turned the booklet around to look at the sketches herself. "And now there are four, Dalnek is dead. It seems there is unrest." Jenya caught her attention. More questions.
     "How do you know all of this?"
     "When Acharya's phoenix brought me back, there was a sweet echo in my mind, telling me that I would begin to see things that I may not understand. It spoke of patience and hope, and promised that if I could hold on to both, then I would understand, eventually." Once again, there was that look in her eyes, telling Jenya to analyze what was being said.
     "An echo." Kelnai nodded to Jenya's question. "It was Coranavayel?"
     "Coran'vel, as it named itself to me. It spoke through the phoenix, promised to make this world right, but specifically said it would need your help. In order to live, I had to swear to protect you, your son and pay attention to what I saw."
     Jenya's mind didn't really want to consider any of that, not yet. "So they're not the... however many, not anymore?"
     Kelnai shook her head. "Not anymore. Part of them recognizes what they were, what they tried to do. As this booklet says, they are each three separate beings in one mind, one body. Who we call Acharya is the amalgamation of Torankhayel, and whomever he was before the Rift opened. Lyahr's consciousness is the product of the inability to simply give in to the dark. Each of them has formed a third personality to fight Torankhayel for control. The parts of their minds that remember why they tried to close the Rift probably don't want to be here now, but even after they accepted their calling to fight, they remain." A tiny sadness clouded her features.
     "Maybe my mind is just tired, but I'm not entirely sure I understand." Jenya rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.
     "They could have easily given in, let Torankhayel completely take over. If they had, neither of us would have been able to hear the voice of Coran'vel anymore. There is still hope," she stood and made her way around the desk. Sliding her arms around her husband's waist, she smiled. "I'm glad you're home. Get some sleep, I know it's been a long month. There will be plenty of time for more questions and answers later."
     Jenya wanted to argue, but instead returned the embrace and made his way through the maze of rooms, towards his bed.