A/N: This is a prologue/epilogue-epilogue to the story The Awakened Mage by Karen Miller. I was so discontent with the ending that I decided, with the help of a friend, that I needed to rewrite the ending so it fit more to my liking. He told me that the certain character this story is focused around needed to come back to life, but, as you'll be able to tell fairly quickly with the writing below, I've decided to take a slightly (and by slightly I mean very) different path.

This fore-note is just to warn you that not all characters will be portrayed 100% accurately. I will do my very best to make sure each character remains as true to the character in the book as is possible, but writing somebody else's character is always a stretch. I want to do Karen Miller's characters justice, seeing as these are my favorite books in the whole world, but we all know that's nigh impossible.

So, to conclude this lengthy fore-note, I just wanted to get out of the way that sometimes characters may seem not like the characters they were in the book, but please know I am doing my best.

Thanks, and enjoy ~

It hadn't been long since Gar had died. No, not long at all. Only a mere week and a half or so, and yet still Asher beat himself up mentally over the fact that he had not been set right with his friend before he had so valiantly offered his very life for the good of Lur. And it hurt. Asher was hurting, and he no longer tried to hide it. For the first few days, yes, when he felt like he was being drowned with offers of the crown; when he couldn't afford to be weak. As soon as he'd rejected the people enough, he began to fall to pieces. Wished there was something he could do that would distract him from his mad misery. In the time he'd spent sulking, he had also began to read over Gar's notes that he'd handwritten from Barl's Diary. And they were a pain in the arse to read, too. His handwriting made his eyes swim, his head hurt. He sure could've used lessons on better penmanship...but then again, who was Asher to judge? His handwriting was even worse.

As Asher's eyes scanned over the parchment the notes were written on, he began to notice something peculiar. Every once and a while, as Asher cross-referenced the papers, he realized in Barl's diary that there were certain letters that were bold. It looked like she'd gone over the word in her scrawling penmanship more than once as if to...emphasize something. But what? Pricked with curiosity and a need to douse, if only momentarily, he overwhelming sorrow, he began to try and decipher which words meant what. After hours upon hours of trying to understand the old Doranen language, Asher threw the papers onto the desk and shoved up from his seat, sending the polished wood flying backwards. Asher gritted his teeth and smothered his knuckles onto the smooth wood of the desk.

"Sink me bloody sideways," Asher snapped, lifting his head and moving to the small window that was his only source of dwindling light at the moment. "Damn you, Gar. Couldn't y'have maybe forced me to learn some of your fancy Doranen language? It'd be real helpful right now, useless cur." At the words spoken towards Gar, Asher's resolve melted, slipped through his fingers like sand. Damn it. I'm goin' crazy here, y'know? Can't take all this guilt. Dath says I need to let the dead lie, but I can't help it. We left off on a bad note, Gar. Didn't get to say thanks. Or sorry. Damn you, you bloody fool. Did ya have to do it? Did... Asher was brought out of his thoughts when somebody knocked on his chamber door. He turned around to see Dathne standing tentatively behind it, poking her head around it to see if it was safe to enter or not. Asher sighed and turned around, softening his posture and opening his arms for her.

And after a moment's hesitation, she embraced him.

"What have you been doing, love?" Dathne asked quietly. "I brought you some supper earlier. You haven't touched it. What were you doing?"

Asher furrowed his brow. Brought him dinner? When? His eyes glanced over to see that, in fact, on the corner of his desk sat a bowl of what was ostensibly now-cold rabbit stew. One of his favorites. How had he not noticed? "I'm sorry, Dath," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I've been fillin' my head with all this Doranen texts. I'm not Gar, it's got me goin' out of my head. Feel like it's gonna burts any second."

Dathne looked up at him, her eyes desperate. Asher couldn't hold her gaze.

"Please, Asher, you're making me worry. I don't want to worry."

Asher sighed, "I'm sorry, Dath...but I can't stop. I've found somethin' and I need to check up on it."

Dathne withdrew. The look of hurt in her eyes was enough to make his heart break. Just a little bit. "Dath, please...don't give me that look."

"I'm not giving you any look, Asher of Resthaven. If you want dinner come downstairs and get it. Maybe you'll think it's nice to have a conversation with your wife every once and a while instead of holing yourself up in here and making yourself miserable!"

Asher watched as Dathne turned on her heel, grabbing the bowl of cold stew, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Scratching the back of his head, Asher frowned, "I'm sorry, love. I would if I could. But first thing's first." Asher groaned as he eased himself back into the wooden chair with faded leather covering the padding and returned to scanning over the foreign Doranen texts and Gar's miserably hard to decipher writing. He couldn't decide which was worse.

Dark had fallen and nothing could be seen out on the streets but glimlight when Asher forced himself to stop. He'd come a long way, actually. But it was dark, and Dathne hadn't thought to bring up a candle or anything (sure, he could use glimlight, but that'd take too much energy for him, and he already had a headache trying to decode this damn eyesore). So if he wanted to continue, he'd have to go downstairs, and that meant dealing with his wife - whom, don't get him wrong, he loved dearly - and stopping to make conversation with. Asher looked over the notes he'd written himself, grimacing at his own messy handwriting.

There's a secret that I've kept from Morg. I know if he had it he'd do terrible things with it,

and it is my duty to protect these innocent people. I know he knows it's out there, though,

and he'll come after it in due time. But this secret is highly forbidden, and that's why I must

do everything I can to keep it hidden. It's...

And that's all he had. Slowly pushing himself away from the desk, he stretched, his back making sickening popping and cracking sounds before he let out a satisfied, guttural sigh. He was becoming a bloody Gar himself, what, with all these notes. Asher had never once thought of him being a book-person, and the very last thing he'd guess was him with his nose buried in one, unmovable, unshakable. It was crazy stuff he was getting himself into, but his curiosity had been peaked. And he was (or perhaps it was just his imagination making him think this) beginning to become familiar with certain repeated ancient Doranen letters (yeah, it was probably his imagination).

Asher walked across the room that he'd turned into his study and downstairs into the Tower's kitchen, where Dathne sat, her cheek resting against her hand as she stared at the flickering flame of the candle. She hadn't seemed to notice him.

Treading softly, as if he was on thin ice that would break at one misstep, Asher moved forward. "Dath? It's late, you should be gettin' to bed."

Dathne looked up, startled. Asher gave her an apologetic smile. "I was waiting for you. I knew you'd be down here sooner or later." Dathne sighed and rested the hand that was supporting her cheek against the table, fingers playing with dripping wax. "You need to take a break. I don't know what you're doing up there, but you remind me of our late Royal Highness. He'd...be proud of you, you know...actually learning the things he loved so much and took so much pride in."

Asher choked on a small sound of discontent, seating himself at the small wooden table, folding his hands on it and staring harshly at the fire as if it'd burned him. As if it was human. "I'd've driven 'im stark raving mad with disbelief, I think," Asher said darkly.

Dathne let out a laugh, which in turn made Asher smile. Her laugh always made him smile. "That's quite possible too." Dathne's amusement died down. "Asher, too many people have died recently. It's all so hard to swallow, and you being gloomy and so distant isn't making it any easier on me. I can tell you what Veira would tell me. She'd say, 'It's not good for a pregnant woman-'"

"'-to have to worry so much. Can't possibly be healthy, either. Whack your husband upside the head for me, would you? It'd probably relieve some stress, too,'" Asher finished. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm sorry, Dath. I don't mean to worry ya. It's just..." Asher paused, then lowered his voice, as if someone were eavesdropping. "I think I may've found somethin' worth somethin' or other."

Dathne frowned and slowly got to her feet, "You're mad with grief, Asher. It can't be anything substantial. We've learned all we need to know from Barl's diary, and you need to put it away with Gar's notes for good. He wanted you to protect it, not exploit any little details you think could possibly mean something." Dathne's gaze softened, "Please, Asher. For me. For my sanity."

Asher stood as well, moving across the short distance between them and wrapping his arms around Dathne, kissing her once before resting his lips beside her ear, whispering, "Forgive me, but I can't. It might be...my only means of reconciliation, Dath. I gotta see if it means somethin'. And if I get the slightest inklin' that it's not, I'll stop. I promise."

Dathne didn't respond for a few minutes, then nodded grimly and withdrew to their bedchambers. Taking the lamp with him, Asher returned to his office.

When Asher woke, he felt stiff all over. Something smelling faintly of oldness wafted from underneath his nose. Opening his eyes, Asher waited for his mind to return to him. Where was he? Why wasn't Dathne beside him? Shaking his head and rubbing hands over his face, Asher got a second's hold on his whereabouts before frowning.

He'd fallen asleep at his desk.

Dathne was going to be pissed.

Rubbing his eyes with balled hands, Asher yawned and once more looked down on the few meager notes he'd managed to take before the candle had burned out completely.

It's a secret that allows one to communicate with people no longer of Lur.

It will allow the caster to be able to talk to someone who is no longer of the

physical world, but of the ether world. I know if Morg gets his hands on it he'll

do something wicked with it. So I've concealed it. The words for the spell go like

this:

Asher paused.

Reread.

Reread his reread.

A shout of joy escaped his lips and he snapped to his feet, holding his notes on wrinkled parchment with both hands, stretching the paper out as if it'd tell him everything it knew with only a bit of pressure. "Dath! Dathne! Dath!" Asher exclaimed, flinging his door open and haphazardly running down the stairs, tripping at the bottom, picking himself up, and running into their bedroom. She wasn't there. Frowning, Asher checked each room until he found Dathne in the kitchen, preparing...lunch? Who cared. He had exciting news!

A boyish, very-unlike-himself grin on Asher's face, he shoved the paper in her direction, "Read it," he said when she gave him a quizzical look.

Dathne momentarily abandoned her cooking to see what all the fuss about. And she did the same thing he did: her eyes went back and forth, back and forth, rereading, rereading the reread, proofreading her rereading of the reread, until at last she appeared satisfied that she'd completely soaked in all there was to know.

"Isn't it magnificent!?" Asher exclaimed, grabbing Dathne by the shoulders. "Do you know what this means!? I can...I can... I can make amends! I can talk to him, Dathne! I can make things right!"

Dathne looked scared, and Asher immediately released her, trying to calm himself down. Dathne was a tad bit scared. This was so unlike him...this was the joy and foolish want of a two-year-old whose heart was set on a toy they were never going to receive...that was impossible to receive. A wistful young woman dreaming of marrying the king's son, even if she had a one in one billion chance of being the one he picked to wed. Plain and simple: it was stupid, fanciful idiocy. "Asher...what have I always told you?" Asher frowned at the scolding. He felt like she was his mother, and he'd done something terribly wrong. "Let the dead lie. Gar gave up his life for a reason, Asher, and you know very well that reason. So please, take a minute to consider: do you think he'd really want to come back? Even if only to speak? Do you know how hard it must've been for him to..." Dathne trailed off when she saw the murderous look in Asher's eyes, and realized her mistake. "No, no, you...don't misunderstand me, Asher. I know how much you loved him, but things didn't end on such a bad note as you might think they did... I promise you, Asher... He forgave you in his heart, you forgave him in yours." Dathne put a gentle hand over Asher's heart. "Let it be."

Asher smiled grimly and pulled away, taking the now-wrinkled (even more so) parchment from Dathne's hands. "No, I can't."

"Barlsman Holze will never allow it!"

"He will if he don't know."

"But how are you intending to keep a secret like this? It's huge! Monumental!"

"What happened to it 'not bein' anythin' '?"

"Well this is something! I had no idea Barl..."

"You gotta let me do this, Dath. I'm gonna do it whether you want me to or not. I have to make things right!" Asher's voice softened considerably, and Dathne had to strain her ears to catch every word, "I'm sufferin', Dath. I can't take it no more. I gotta make things right."

Dathne's heart broke for him. But she couldn't let him do it, even if she knew her resistance of it was futile. "Please..."

Asher's face was suddenly set in stone. "I'm two sentences away from finishin' up the incantations...I'll find out where I'm goin' and I'll let yo know first. I promise love...nothin' bad is gonna happen. It'll be easy, I know it. Snap of a finger."

Dathne crossed her arms and bit her lip as Asher gave her another, uncharacteristically boyish grin and headed off. "Oh, Asher..." she whispered, "What have you gotten yourself into?" And rested a hand on her slowly swelling belly.

Asher reclined in his chair, eyes wide.

How is this possible? How can I get here? Where the hell is this place? Damn you, Gar, why did ya have to go dyin' on me? I need your help, Mr. Historian!

For a split second, Asher thought he heard a reply: You're so rude, Asher.

"I ain't rude," Asher said defensively. "I'm just me."

The familiar sentence made him smile, but there was an unending sorrow behind it. Shaking it off, Asher looked over his notes again. "Sink me sideways, it's across Barl's Mountains!"

"What's across Barl's Mountains?"

Asher jumped, "Dath! You scared me. And...nothin' much. Just the place I gotta go..."

"You 'gotta' go across Barl's Mountains? Asher, no! That'd take months! The baby'd be here by the time you'd get back!"

"It ain't gonna be born without its father here, Dath. And I'll be back in time to make sure I see our baby bein' born, promise. But I gotta go across the Mountains and find this...this..." Asher reread his notes, "This Temple of Barl of sorts. It's out there. Somewhere beyond Barl's Mountains. I gotta go, I gotta get there."

Dathne suddenly lost it. "Asher! Cut it out! You can't go leaving me here by myself! I'm a pregnant woman and I need someone's support! I need my husband beside me! You can't just up and leave me!"

Asher's expression hardened, "Don't you understand, Dath? I gotta do what's right. I feel it in my gut. And I ain't up and leavin' no one! It won't take me more than half a year, Dath. No more! I have to do this, Dath. I'm goin' to do this. Now, I gotta get provisions and saddle up Cygnet."

"He won't make it across Barl's Mountains, Asher. Be reasonable. That horse is all fine-blood and pretty dancing. Not meant for uphill climbing."

"He'll do just fine, Dath, stop your worryin'," he said gently, "He's a good ole boy, he knows what he's doin'. He can sort out a few rocks and pebbles hisself. We'll be just fine."

Dathne's eyes filled with tears, "I'm scared. I don't want you to go. I already almost lost you not once, but twice. I can't take the stress, Asher...please don't do this to me...I'm begging you."

Asher went up and hugged his wife, "Don't worry, my dearest, sweetest Dathne...I'll be home again afore you know it."

Dathne's arms crawled up behind Asher's back and held him close. "I sure hope you're right, Asher...I sure hope you're right."