Sai's eyes droop and he cannot stop himself from yawning--"rrrrrwwwwwaaaaaawwwwwwuuhhhhhh," the dracnari indulges, exhaling a whorl of steam which dances ghostily in the crisp mountain air before a stray breeze takes it away. A steady percussion of raindrops outside the mossy cove that is their night's shelter works its hypnotic magic upon Sai's mind as he struggles to stay awake. He is exhausted but refuses to sleep; no, not now, not when he is so very close. Soon Mother Night will yield to her shining mate, then all that separates Sai from his goal is a half-day's trek down the Razine. A younger version of himself might have relaxed, or at the very least let someone else take a shift of watch, but this seasoned warrior has known true suffering as the result of carelessness; his imagination is consumed by maddening images of being taken unawares a mere stone's throw from his glorious redemption (redemption, by the Nine, so sweet a word that his soul sings at the very thought!), and so he refuses to succumb to such a base and banal mortal foible as sleepiness.

In an idle attempt to distract himself Sai fishes a silken drawstring bag from his scuffed and grimy armor. He clutches the fabric and is calmed by the reassuring presence of the Object within, its perfectly spherical mass rolling easily across his palm. That the retrieval of such a tiny package should be his penance seems disproportionate to the years spent wallowing in tormentuous exile, discharged from his guild post and separated from those he holds dear; he must remind himself that his shallow understanding of the workings of Fate are irrelevant. Minister Yuriev said retrieve the Object, and so they have-- the quest had its perils, though no more than any mortal should expect when stepping outside their city's limits. When his restless brain questions why he was chosen for this mission when a legion of loyal guardsmen lie at the Minister's disposal he is answered by a rueful, pragmatic voice: it is self-evident... you and the others are expendable dregs.

Sai narrows his draconic eyes to red slits as he surveys his travel companions distastefully; they are arranged around a dying fire, slumbering soundly. Exiles and misfits, the lot of them, though their motives for involvement are less conscientious than his personal quest for redemption. Along the road Sai has learned that their desires are of a single color: gold.

Closest to the outcropping slab upon which Sai sits rests a pair of elven twins-- wilders, he has no doubt, as they dress in leaves and sleep directly on the ground-- and they are surely the most dangerous. The Minister had sought professional trackers with experience roaming the Basin's treacherous forests, and they had proven themselves in that regard by following a long-cold caravan trail into the enchanted Fae woods where the Object's previous fellowship had been hopelessly lost. When Sai had remarked on the lack of corpses found near their wagon's overgrown wreckage the twins responded, blithely, that most who wander into the woods are ignorant of the many predators constantly observing them, just waiting for the opportune moment to strike. This he interpreted as a veiled threat and has since been loath to let them out of his sight-- as sisters they formed a faction unto themselves in this party, and if the two of them got the jump on Sai they could steal the Object and disappear into the wilderness without a trace. The very thought causes a hot pang of despair to flash through his soul-- he realizes paranoia is causing his imagination to run wild, glances longingly towards the mouth of their shallow cavern and is pleased to see that the shower has slowed to a gentle drizzle. Although darkness still reigns a sea of morning mist has settled over the valley below, spilling wispy tendrils of white cloud across the cove's threshold as it laps against the mountainside.

Keep it together, not much longer now, Sai thinks as he shifts his attention back to his companions. Nearby the twins a fluffy canine bundle curls luxuriously in the warm light of orange embers. Sai is momentarily jealous of the young loboshigaru before him-- definitely the laziest member of the team, prone to frequent naps, as his dimwittedness generally prevented Sai from delegating him any task more complex than "watch that entrance" or "carry that load." Compared to the rest he seems quite pedestrian, but this suits Sai just fine-- he knows the value of a handy grunt for the many menial but necessary tasks common to any expedition and is therefore willing to overlook all the incompetence and the napping. It is far better, Sai reckons, to reserve his wariness for the greedy, scheming dwarf sprawled atop his bedroll, snoring evenly. This one was contracted for his mastery of locks-- the former trademaster of a prosperous artisan cartel, he has since earned renown within certain shady circles as a blackmarket "locksmith." As a fellow exile Sai hated being associated with this type of outcast-scoundrel, existing on the fringe of society where only those who devote their talents to criminal enterprises can hope to thrive. And oh, hadn't he seen the gleam in that dwarf's eyes as he cracked the safe and was the first to behold the Object within? The reluctance with which the bearded rat had relinquished the shiny bauble to Sai's custody? In his mind he can picture the dwarf pawning away the Object of his salvation, auctioning off his redemption to the highest bidder before sinking back into the underworld with a pile of gold to keep him safe.

No! Sai snorts defiantly, causing a gout of flame to lash from his nostrils. That will never happen, for it is Sai's role within the group to lead and his foremost duty to ensure that the Object reaches its destination. Minister Yuriev, in his great wisdom, surely selected Sai for the task because he understood the depths of Sai's desire to be welcomed back into his city, his guild, his life!

My life... I want it back! I have suffered enough! Sai rises from his seat like an uncoiling serpent, scrutinizing his companions' breathing for any sign of irregularity. None stir. He looks outside and sees that the sky is still black, the mist still thick and white, but he can wait no longer. With the Object retrieved he has no further use for any of these louts-- let them report to the Minister in their own time to get their precious rewards-- Sai's path is clear. He moves slowly to exit the cave, ensuring that his clunky armor does not rouse the sleepers, and gradually picks up speed as he follows the mountain trail down into the swirling valley mists.

The feeling of his heart beating in his chest causes Sai to smile; he finally feels as if he can see the light at the end of a very long tunnel. The knowledge that each step is actually bringing him closer to being welcomed home makes it difficult to stop himself from stripping off his armor and sprinting the rest of the way, but no, such impulsive, reckless behavior is why he was cast out in the first place. He has truly changed, he knows it, and will be able to put the past behind him once and for all...

... the mist is oppressively thick. No matter, Sai needs only follow the path, and as he does so his mind is overtaken by memories. Images seem to project from his head and impose themselves onto the whitewashed world-- there he is awakening in the Minister's guardhouse, wearing an expression of groggy satisfaction that quickly melts into dismay-- he is in bed alone, she is gone... how many hours have passed? He counts the empty wine bottles: one, two, three, four... he hastily equips his armor and stumbles out into a gray dawn; such stillness, even in the early morning, seems unnatural... he blunders into his master's manse and is greeted by two corpses, the butler and the head maid, their bodies stiff but their blood still wet upon the floor... a trail of it leads upstairs... he finds Minister' Yuriev's wife first, throat slit, right outside her daughter's bedroom-- crimson handmarks on the door and knob from a futile attempt to bar the assailant's entry...

... there he is stepping into a child's bedroom, but things are different from what he remembers-- there's the Minister's daughter, a pink, smiling and very-much alive little human, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from a black-clad figure whose back is to Sai. The daughter notices him and waves cheerfully, prompting the figure to turn slightly-- at first he is sure it is her, the dracnari seductress who used him to infiltrate the manor and slaughter the Minister's helpless family, and draws his blade. But it is his own face that turns to grin at him-- not as he was then but as he is now. He watches himself rise, scoop the eager child into his arms, and confront himself. He and his past are like reflections of each other, and now Sai realizes he isn't sure who is actually him, or even if he is within a body at all. He's forgotten where he is entirely.

"You couldn't save her," says the Sai wearing black. The little girl in his arms nods knowingly.

"I made a mistake... all I want is to atone for it... I can't stand suffering this guilt alone anymore," says the one in armor, lowering his sword.

"You don't have to." The present him grasps the little girl securely beneath the arms and extends her out to the other, offering her for him to hold.

Past-Sai takes a single step towards himself but feels resistance, as if something is pulling him back. He turns around and sees that there is a strand of silver thread stretching endlessly into the void behind him, a single sinew that seems connected to his very soul. It is fully taut, threatening to break if stretched further. He casts a look of desperation towards the little girl it had been his responsibility to protect, then back again to the silver thread.

Casting down his blade, Sai makes two final, resolute strides and takes the girl into his arms.

Snap!

~*~*~*~

Braxton opens one eye to see the dracnari warrior go limp, his body suddenly slouching forward in his seat overlooking the campfire and ceasing to breathe. A shame, the loboshigaru thinks as he unfurls from his sleeping position and pads silently over to the corpse-- Sai had seemed to be a good-natured fellow beneath that gruff exterior. Alas, in times of war there must be casualties, and the dracnari had unwittingly inserted himself into the middle of a conflict whose origins predate the Scourge... but, he reasons, perhaps the Dreamweavers' long, secret war could soon be brought to a conclusion with the Artifact finally in their grasp.

Braxton solemnly removes the silken drawstring bag from around the dead dracnari's neck and empties its contents into his furry palm-- at first the perfectly smooth gem merely resembles an orb of clear glass, but as he holds it blobs of color begin to warble into existence and quickly resolve themselves into an iris of brilliant, shifting hues. The Eye of Vestera appears to wink up at its new owner-- Braxton winks back and disappears into the night.