:- 'Fandes? I'm sorry, I should've checked - how are you holding up?: 

:I don't know: She can't manage anything more. 

:Come walk with me in the field? I need to clear my head too. The interrogation...: 

:Taver told me: Again, Yfandes finds herself confusingly unable to go on. 

She lets herself out of the stables, though, and meets Kellan in the field. Eyes him. He's shaken as well, she thinks. 

For a long time neither of them says anything. They pace in silence, side by side. Yfandes keeps trying to start, and failing to come up with any words. 

She misses Gala. Of all the stupid emotions to be stuck feeling, right now. There are so many priorities higher than pointless grief for a friend she lost twelve years ago. 

Kellan, in the end, is the first to break the silence. :How's Van?: 

She should answer. She needs to answer. 

It's not happening, though. 

Kellan fidgets, tail flicking, one hoof pawing absently at the grass. 

:Are you...?: he starts to ask, but doesn't finish. His mindvoice trails off, almost puzzled. 

:Am I what?: 

:....I don't know. Lost my train of thought: Kellan's ears twitch, sheepishly. 

:Heh. It's all right. Been happening to me as well - I guess we're all under stress right now: 

It feels like more than that, though. And Yfandes is pretty sure that Kellan knows it as well. That there's something here and both of them see it - or, no, both of them know it's there but can't look at it head-on - and they're refusing to talk about it but that won't make it go away. 

All information is worth having, Vanyel always says. A sentiment that reminds her of Leareth, but it was Herald Seldasen who wrote it, centuries ago. 

:What's wrong with us?: she thinks, her mindvoice a breath on the wind. 

Kellan twitches.

He could pretend not to have heard, it was clearly one of those asides that wasn't really meant to be shared in Mindspeech, but knowing that doesn't un-ask the question, does it? 

:I don't know: 

Yfandes shivers. 

:- That's part of what's wrong. Isn't it? That we don't know: 

:What? Yfandes, I don't underst–: 

That would be a lie, though. Kellan knows exactly what she means. Even if, at the same time, he doesn't. It feels disconcertingly like one of those optical illusions that Yfandes' Chosen found in an old book once. A picture that looks like a rabbit from some angles and a fish from others.

Except this is far more nebulous, he doesn't know what the second picture is, he can only glimpse it in fragments, for an instant, and then it slips away... 

Yfandes recognizes it in him. It feels as though she knows exactly what he's feeling, right now. 

This doesn't help at all when it comes to finding words to answer. 

A couple of minutes pass in awkward silence, both of them occasionally making as though to speak and then failing to. 

- and this is the point at which Delian reaches the field at a full gallop, sides lathered and heaving, nostrils flared.

He plants all four hooves and skids to a stop, piercing blue eyes settling on the pair of them. :What's happening: 

Yfandes is so confused. Possibly the most confusing part of all is that, on some level, she isn't surprised, and Delian's panicked arrival feels inevitable. 

:Something's wrong -?: The question feels incredibly pointless even as she hears herself ask it. She knows something is wrong. It's screaming in her blood, in her bones. 

And elsewhere, just barely audible in the distance, there is suddenly shouting. 

"You're not LISTENING to me!" Tran snaps at Taver, feet planted, arms folded over his chest. "You're not– did you listen to a single word of what we learned in there?" 

Taver says nothing for a long time. 

Herald Tantras is, right now, incandescently furious. 

He's aware, distantly, in the back of his mind, that most of his anger isn't actually about Taver at all. He's angry with Karis, angry with the Son of the Sun, pointlessly angry with Vanyel for almost dying, and even more pointlessly angry at Cam for...existing, and bringing so much complication and mess into his life.

However, he's incredibly tired of being patient and mature and charitable. 

"Don't just stand there and look at me!" he snarls back at the Groveborn Companion. His Companion, currently utterly failing to be supportive or helpful. "Say something!" 

A mental sigh. :Chosen, I too would prefer if we had not learned what we just did. It is...unfortunate: 

Everything about Taver's reaction is wrong, jarringly so, especially the calmly matter-of-fact tone of his mindvoice.

"Why aren't you angry? Why haven't you– we need to do something! Or things like this are just going to keep happening! I don't feel like a literal god is going to give up that easily!" 

After a painfully long hesitation, Taver finally lifts his head. :And what, exactly, would you propose that we do?: 

"I don't know! Ask Cam for help? There's got to be something we can do to keep our people safe from bloody Vkandis Sunlord." 

:Perhaps. And perhaps not. Also. We ought consider that, if the gods would go so far, perhaps They have a good reason for fearing Cam's presence: 

Gaaaaaaaaaaaah he wants to rip out his HAIR. Tran can't remember the last time he was this frustrated. 

Nearby, a gardener is staring worriedly at the King's Own Herald screaming at his Companion. Tran takes a deep breath, and with a deliberate effort of will, resumes at a more normal volume. 

"Doom and darkness, huh? Honestly, I'm starting to wonder if it just means doom and darkness for Them, not us! And if that's true then I'm not sure why I should care!"