TRINITY RISING

Summary: The day after the Battle of Lion's Arch, Caithe approaches Tiffany and Fiona with a wary question - what they think Scarlet's 'secret of the sylvari' is. On both sides, neither can see how the other knows the secret, so neither tells, although Caithe is informed of the possible ramifications of withholding the secret from Destiny's Edge. Afterward, Fiona goes to inform Gixx that she is going to take some time off until tomorrow. He is worried about the Pact, and Fiona finds herself at first wondering whether she can reassure him, to tentatively succeeding in the face of their questioning about the Order of Whispers… something Sieran has to say something about in private afterwards. As she looks for Vriré, Trahearne asks her to tell the others in the Dream's 'scouting group' about a meeting tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, Braham confronts Tiffany, tells her to stay away, and leaves. Eir offers Tiffany some advice, which she takes. Tiffany heads home with Fiona, speaks briefly to Petra, and heads upstairs to think about Deborah while Fiona goes to tell Sieran about Trahearne's meeting. Forgal shows up, and they all have a long talk.

Chapter sixteen: Epilogue

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the long hiatus, but now I can settle in to writing with a good conscience.

I made a bunch of edits to the last chapter, Plans for the Pact, because I posted it in a hurry and had to change some things. (Even if you don't care about most of them, you should re-read the conversation with Bekkar at the end - it's been massively revamped and its purpose changed.)

BINGO! Posted on June 22nd, the exact day I'd said I'd come back! (That means hiatus ended a week ago, which you may have guessed when the previous chapter - the author's note telling you about my school - went down.)

Okay, here's the story now:

Tiffany wakes up the next day to find that Claw Island has been retaken by the Pact and put back into the hands of Lionguard. Now, she and Fiona are preparing to head back to Divinity's Reach for the purpose of telling Petra and Andrew what had transpired.

Tiffany is quiet. There is suddenly nothing pressing that needs doing, as there has been the last couple of days, and her mind - which had been subconsciously processing everything she'd been going through - finally has a chance to make itself known.

Deborah, the Dream, the destruction of Lion's Arch, Destiny's Edge, the Pact… everything. There was a lot of bad, but also a lot of good.

Her subconscious had decided, apparently, that the damage to Lion's Arch is her fault. And she can't fault her own logic - if she'd simply gotten the Pact started sooner, the whole battle would have taken place on Claw Island, and Lion's Arch would have been spared. If it had just been the things the dragons smashed, it would have been better, but the acid spit had ruined many of the buildings, and the civilians who had been evacuated would mostly return home to nothing. Tiffany wonders what those same civilians had done in the game when Scarlet destroyed the city.

The fact that Scarlet's destruction and her own - or Zhaitan's - are named the same thing is also rather telling.

Not to mention Deborah's death - Tiffany knows that one is fully on her. She'd known the future, and how had that helped? Forgal hadn't died, but Deborah had. Tiffany herself hadn't even done that much to save Forgal - just called Talon names and had Fiona and Vriré guard the watchtowers. That could easily have gone downhill - she should have been at the towers herself. The fact that she did not make even the same precautions the second time hurts.

She, like the current Watch Commander Mira, had thought it enough that several Lionguard were at the tower. Since when had she trusted NPCs with the lives of her allies?

And since when did she call them 'NPCs,' either? Tiffany mulls over this question for some time, and comes up with an answer that is not very satisfactory to her. They are NPCs because she hadn't known them. It's the only word she has for people she doesn't know. She hadn't talked to them, made sure they weren't NPCs.

But… why is her mind still so game-oriented? She'd been living in, around, and with people she doesn't know all her life. Why would she call them NPCs? Why not 'unproven soldiers,' 'allies who had not yet won her respect,' or any other such description, even 'people she doesn't know' as she would have termed them on earth? 'People she doesn't know' is all she can figure out of why she had called them NPCs, as well.

Tiffany turns to Fiona with a frown, about to tell her what she had just thought, but Fiona smirks at her, and suddenly Caithe appears out of nowhere. Tiffany nearly jumps out of her skin in surprise. "Don't do that!" she gasps. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"A what attack?" Caithe frowns, glancing around.

Tiffany facepalms. Oddly enough, the thought of laughing at Caithe's misunderstanding never occurs to her. "Nevermind," she says. "It's an expression that means you scared me really bad."

"Oh." Caithe frowns, then shakes her head as if dismissing the concern. "As it is, I have a few things to speak to you about. First; why can I feel you through the Dream?"

Tiffany brightens. "Trahearne took us to see the Pale Tree, and she sent us into the Dream to look at the future, and we kind of bonded. Or something. So we're part sylvari now?"

"She's always wanted to be a sylvari," Fiona tells Caithe.

Caithe just nods. "I see. The other issue is this - what do you think Scarlet's secret is?"

Tiffany frowns. "This is about this 'secret to the sylvari' you mentioned?" she asks Fiona.

Fiona nods, glancing warily at Caithe.

"I know you know what I'm talking about," Caithe tells the ranger. "Don't play dumb."

Obviously, Caithe isn't taking any chances with this. Tiffany frowns, unsure whether to tell Caithe. She feels as if she should make Caithe tell her first, but that vision in the Dream… if Caithe won't tell her own guildmates, she certainly won't tell Tiffany and Fiona. Tiffany glances at her sister, unsure, and Fiona shrugs.

Tiffany hasn't got the slightest clue how Caithe could possibly know about Mordremoth, though, so she is stuck.

"What do you think it is?" Caithe asks again, more sharply this time.

"I think it is something that…" Tiffany trails off with a frown. Caithe is mysterious, cryptic, and she obviously has a history with Faolain over this. Who knows what she would do. Caithe is also the only person who wouldn't tell - she won't tell her own guildmates - but at the same time, Caithe might be talking about something completely different. "Something that should remain a secret," she says finally. "I think the Pale Tree agrees, though she didn't speak explicitly on the subject."

"The Pale Tree knows about this?" Caithe asks, frowning. "But she isn't the one who told you?"

"She didn't tell us, no," Tiffany replies. "But I think she knows. We were inside the Dream, and she sent us to watch a separate vision about your secret while she spoke to Trahearne."

Caithe had opened her mouth to ask a question, but her attention is grabbed by something else. "A vision… about the secret?" Caithe asks warily, her eyes sharp.

"Yes," Fiona confirms. "We saw Destiny's Edge, at odds again. So soon after recovering from your previous… disagreements, this secret - a secret that they now know exists - breaks you apart. You didn't tell them, wouldn't tell, no matter how many times they asked. This hasn't happened yet," Fiona reminds her, "but it could. We don't know how soon, but we also saw the formation of the Pact in the Dream, so it's around this timeframe."

Caithe seems surprised, but she shows no other signs of shock… aside from, perhaps, relief? "I see," she says simply.

"We - me and Fiona - won't ask you to tell us," Tiffany informs her. "But I… we… thought you should be fully informed. For the sake of Destiny's Edge and Tyria, I hope you and your companions can work through it."

Caithe just nods, and shadowsteps away. Tiffany sits down in a chair. "Well, there goes nothing," she sighs. "I suppose it all depends on how curious Caithe is, and how certain we can get of what it is she's hiding. I'd like to tell her, but if she doesn't already know…"

"Right," Fiona agrees.

Tiffany and Fiona split up to report to their various Orders before heading home.

Fiona finds Gixx conferring anxiously with Sieran and a tall norn.

"Ah! Magister Fiona," Gixx exclaims upon seeing her. "This pact is a most curious thing, don't you agree? It's just… I don't see how we can possibly work together in any profitable way! It's just not built for a long-term endeavor such as moving against Zhaitan. The Priory isn't ready, can't be ready if we don't have the knowledge to stop Risen from trapping us under our own floor!"

"Steward," Fiona sighs, wondering herself about the stability of the Pact if this is how its most important leaders are thinking. The Vigil can handle that. The Priory aren't built for fighting. The Vigil is, though, and this pact is designed to prevent such a thing from happening again, or… yeah." She'd been about to say 'or at least from being as bad as it could be, like happened last time' but decided against it.

"Yes, but the Priory doesn't have time to work with underhanded backstabbers and brainless warmongers," the norn points out. "How do the Order of Whispers help us?"

"Because," Fiona starts, but then pauses. How do the Order of Whispers help?"

"Is it just because you're an Agent?" Gixx asks suspiciously.

Right. Leon had blurted out that secret. "No, it's not," Fiona replies, wondering how to prove it. She wishes Tiffany were here, and instantly feels guilty. She supports Tiffany, not the other way around. What would Tiffany say? How is the Order of Whispers beneficial to the Pact? Honestly, Fiona doesn't know, now that she thinks about it. Tiffany would know, if she was here.

"Even if it isn't," the norn inserts, "why are we asking her for advice anyway? The Order of Whispers all act to the greater goals of the Order of Whispers."

"The Order of Whispers' 'greater goals' are to defeat the Elder Dragons," Fiona snaps, "just like us and the Vigil." Oh! There, she'd said it. She'd said what Tiffany would have said, at least in part.

"But how are they useful?" Gixx asks again.

"They're not… bad," Sieran offers. "They helped a lot in the Battle of Lion's Arch. Even if they don't help any more, they don't get in our way or anything."

"And yet they infiltrate our organization," the norn points out, gesturing toward Fiona. "It happened with 'Magister' Leon Traydor, as well."

"It's what they do," Fiona replies. "And now that we're allied with them, we - you - will know who those infiltrators are. Because, technically, they're not infiltrators any more. They're people who carried the spirit of the Pact with them before the Pact was ever formed." Oh, boom. Now, even Tiffany might not have said that one. She's doing it! She's fulfilling her role!

Which, so far, includes a lot of talking. Oh, joy.

Gixx seems to accept this, although tentatively. "Alright," he replies, rather grumpily. "So… what did you come here for?"

"I wanted to ask if there was anything else the Priory is doing before I head home," Fiona replies. "My family are probably dying of worry right now, after the big battle."

"I… I think it depends on Trahearne," Gixx replies. "I'm not sure what we're doing next."

"Why don't you suggest a meeting, then?" Fiona offers helpfully. "To discuss plans now that Lion's Arch is safe."

"Yes, yes, I'll do that…" Gixx nods to himself. "You go do your thing, I'll send Sieran to get you when things have been resolved."

Fiona nods. "Thanks, Steward." She turns away, but before she has gone far, Sieran catches up to her.

"You never told me you joined the Order of Whispers," she says, hurt showing through in her voice, shining in her eyes, and, most importantly, radiating through the Dream. Fiona had never felt specific emotion from Sieran before - from anybody except Tiffany, in fact - and realizes that this situation is important, and might make or break their friendship.

Yipes. Fiona sighs. "Sieran, I…" she actually doesn't have an excuse for this one. Not one that Sieran will like, anyway. She and Tiffany had talked about telling her, but upon being asked if Sieran was the type to keep secrets, they'd dropped the topic. If she tells Sieran that she'd thought she'd tell, Sieran will think she doesn't trust her.

The problem is, Fiona does trust her. Sieran had been there for her countless times, and Sieran and she had been partners for too long for Fiona not to trust her. Apparently, Sieran feels the same - if the hint from emotion through the Dream is anything to go by - and perhaps even more.

It's just that her secret-keeping capability… probably isn't the best. Fiona hasn't ever seen Sieran display a lack of… whatever it is that makes people tell secrets… it's just that she'd likely forget or something. She's Sieran. And the secrets she and Tiffany have are just too… well… secret.

But Sieran had surprised her before - both with her attitude over her role at Sorrow's Embrace, and now, more recently, she had been showing an unusual… maturity. As if she'd finally done the sylvari equivalent to growing up, whatever that may be.

But even if Fiona had been ready to tell her now, that's not the problem. The problem is that Sieran is suddenly questioning their friendship, and Fiona can't just say 'we thought you couldn't keep the secret.' That would just be mean of her, and possibly drive Sieran away and they wouldn't be friends anymore. At the same time, however, she can't just say 'I don't know, we never thought about it' because… well… just because.

After a beat of silence that had stretched into several seconds, Fiona struggling to formulate a response, she finally answers, "we were going to tell you someday, Sieran, I… we just - we weren't sure how you'd react," she says, finally finding a reason. "Tiffany told Forgal, and he nearly killed her, and… well…"

The hurt radiating through the Dream vanishes, and the emotion in her eyes and tone - although not reflected in the Dream anymore - is, not confusion, but maybe a mix of thoughtfulness, sympathy, and understanding. "I understand. I still wish you'd told me - I did think you knew me better - but I understand."

Fiona nods. She does know Sieran better - it had been a topic that came up in her talk with Tiffany - even if Sieran had had similar background with the Order of Whispers, Sieran would never have reacted that way on impulse. But it's a better reason than the real one.

Sieran smiles. "Thank you, Fiona. For everything." She then turns and hurries off.

Now, what does that mean? Fiona wonders as she turns back toward the temporary Whispers base. 'For everything?' Fiona had actually hardly done anything for Sieran recently, or at all, just in general.

"Fiona, good to see you," comes a voice from ahead of her, and Fiona glances up from her study of the acid-eaten cobblestone of Lion's Arch to see Trahearne.

"You too," Fiona nods, pausing in her walk. "How have you been? It must be hard, trying to keep the Orders together."

"It is actually fairly intriguing," Trahearne replies, "but that is not what I wanted to speak to you about. When you see Tiffany, could you tell her that I want to speak to you? If you can bring Forgal, Sieran, and Lightbringer Vriré, as well, I'd appreciate it - it's about what we saw within the Dream."

Fiona smiles. "That's awesome! I'll be sure to tell them."

"Thank you," Trahearne tells her. "Meet me tomorrow morning by the Mystic Forge."

Fiona nods. "Understood. Oh," she adds, remembering, "and I just spoke to Gixx. He's concerned about the long-term… stability of the Pact. I reassured him… kinda… not too sure how good a job I did… but that might be something you'll need to address."

"Yes, thank you for informing me," Trahearne tells her. "I'll look into it."

The two part ways and Fiona locates Vriré, who is in the midst of reporting to Preceptor Doern.

"Agent Fiona, present and unconcerned," Fiona tells him, indicating that she is there but does not need to speak to him. He nods in acknowledgement.

Once Vriré is done speaking to Doern, Fiona takes her a bit farther away so they aren't intruding. "Trahearne wants to meet with us by the Mystic Forge tomorrow morning," Fiona tell her. "He'll explain why then. Also, do you have anything for me to do before I head home for a bit?"

Vriré shakes her head. "As far as I can tell, Preceptor Doern isn't sure what is going to happen next with this pact. Most of the Whisperers in the city ar on standby or full-on leave for now." She pauses. "You can go - you'll be back tomorrow morning - but be ready in case Doern summons you back. You're his most important Priory liaison, apart from Trahearne, after all."

Fiona smiles. "Thanks, Lightbringer. See you tomorrow."

"No problem, Agent," Vriré replies.

"Tiffany," Braham says warily. "I need to speak to you about Eir."

Tiffany pauses, and, after a moment, turns toward him. "I'm sorry, Braham," she says. "I really am. If I'd known you were related I'd have - "

"Done what?" Braham asks roughly. Seriously, what would she have done that could have fixed it? "Brought up the topic? I don't care about Eir, and she doesn't care about me."

Tiffany frowns. "Then why are you so… upset… that I didn't tell you?"

Braham huffs. He doesn't know the answer to that, not really. "I like things to be clear between people I consider friends," Braham tells her at last. "Everyone in Cragstead knows I'm Eir's son. What they don't do is try to avoid the topic, or ignore the fact, or pretend like it's anything but what it is. Us norn like simple, Tiffany. Nobody else seems to understand that. Once things are clear, they can be forgotten and not cared about. That's what happened when Eir left, and that's what's happened ever since."

Tiffany seems uncertain what to say, although she winces for no visible reason. "I didn't know," Tiffany repeats finally. "That's the pure and simple of it." She shrugs. "I might not understand things if I'm not told - I am actually very terrible at noticing things if I'm not told - but now I know. So, you want me to do what in regards to this whole problem?"

"I just - " Braham pauses, struggling for words. "Just stay away," he says finally.

Tiffany blinks in surprise. "Why - ?" she starts.

"Because," Braham snaps. He isn't sure why himself. "It's difficult to… I just… just stay away."

He turns and leaves, wandering aimlessly deeper into the fort. He can feel Tiffany's eyes on his back. He can also hear a low rumble in Beorn's throat that had started when he approached Tiffany.

"What did you do, Braham?" Malena asks him with a sigh.

"Talked to Tiffany," he replies shortly, not even surprised at her appearance. He shrugs. "I told her I'd prefer if we kept our distance from each other. Simpler that way."

"You know its not her fault," Malena point out. "She didn't know."

Braham huffs. "I know," he grumbles, a hint of anger in his voice. "I don't care."

"Tiffany? Are you okay?" Eir asks.

"What?" Tiffany asks, startled out of thought. She glances at Eir. "Oh, no. I'm fine." She's not, really. Braham's rejection had shaken her. She wishes she could tell him she knew the future, and that was why, but Braham is… impulsive. Tiffany isn't sure if she can trust him with a big secret like this yet. She is coming to realize that she doesn't actually know him that well.

"You seem disturbed," Eir notes. "And Beorn isn't happy."

"Fine," Tiffany sighs. "It's about Braham. He doesn't like me, and I can't figure out why."

Eir sighs as well. "He doesn't like me either. He has a reason for that, though."

"He doesn't like me mostly because I know you," Tiffany tells her. "Or because I didn't tell him I know you. One of the two."

"I got the feeling," Eir agrees. "Don't worry, I understand that you didn't know before. Braham, on the other hand…"

Tiffany nods. "That was the problem before, but I'm fairly sure I fixed that problem."

"Braham - well, norn teens in general - can be impulsive," Eir tells her. "Moreso than the other races. They are young, brash, and ready to prove their worth to the world. They don't like being challenged in ways they can't cope with. I don't know what Braham is thinking - you know him better than I do - but I think he just needs time. If his attitude toward me is any indication, he places a great value on relationships," she adds.

Tiffany nods slowly. She'd never thought about that before - she knows Braham better than Eir does. And he places 'great value' on relationships. He's like her, then. "Thanks, Eir. Your support means a lot to me." And she means it.

"You're welcome," the norn tells her. "I understand what you're going through."

Tiffany blinks as Eir walks away with Garm on her heels. Yes, Eir would know. A mother would know her son whether she'd spent time with him or not, too. Maybe she can give him some time.

Tiffany and Fiona meet up at the Priory-hacked waypoint. She'd reported to General Almorra, who had given her permission to leave for a day or so.

"Tiffany!" she hears Forgal call, and turns to see him hurrying toward them. "I want to speak with you later. You're going home, right?" he checks.

"Yes," Tiffany comfirms. "See you later?"

Forgal nods. "I only have a moment - I've been assigned to watch the Vigil Keep with a small squad until we can muster a Pact response to the Risen there, but my shift ends in the late afternoon."

"Got it," Tiffany says, saluting. "Let's go, Fi."

The two disappear in puffs of blue. As they walk toward the tavern, Tiffany is hit by the lack of urgency. The last several days had been packed with activity, and she hadn't even had a chance to think about Deborah's death. And the next few days will be the same, barring the Vigil retaking the Keep. This might be her only break before the Pact really gets in motion.

"Tiffany, I almost forgot," Fiona says suddenly. "Trahearne wants to see us, Forgal, Sieran and Vriré tomorrow morning. He said it's about the Dream."

"Us, Forgal, Sieran and Vriré," Tiffany repeats. "That's everybody in that group we saw in the Dream, and the ones who helped us fight the Eye we faced, and the gate guardian."

"That's the point," Fiona agrees as they approach the tavern. "Can you tell Forgal when he gets here? I need to go tell Sieran, and I already notified Vriré. I just need to assure Petra I'm fine."

"You're… different," Tiffany notes with a small frown.

Fiona shrugs. "If you say so."

"You're…" Tiffany pauses, struggling for words. "More direct? You think ahead a bit more, maybe. Something like that."

Fiona shrugs again, andl eave sit at that.

"Tiffany! Fiona!" Petra cries, as they enter the tavern, running over and hugging them. "You're alive, thank Dwayna, you're alive."

Tiffany offers a sickly smile, glancing at Fiona, who grimaces. "We're fine, Petra," she says quietly. "We're fine. Lion's Arch is safe now, but we have to return tomorrow morning in order to - "

"No!" Petra snaps, fire in her eyes. "You're not going anywhere. You're going to stay here where it's safe."

Tiffany glances at Fiona. That's Petra's 'no nonsense' tone. Beorn tells her it's probably about Deborah.

"Where's Andrew?" Fiona asks, changing the topic.

"Visiting Zachariah," Petra says dismissively.

Tiffany and Fiona exchange glances. Andrew and Zachariah, fast friends, can spend hours in each other's company, and often stay over night. They won't get any reprieve from Petra in the older man.

"Come on, you two," Petra says, accepting the topic change as surrender. "You've been away for days, you need some rest."

Tiffany shrugs. A break from being busy, perhaps, but she's well rested. The tavern is almost empty - as well it might, being the middle of Monday morning - and the sisters head up to their bedroom.

"That was weird," Fiona notes, opening the door.

But Tiffany's gaze is riveted on the door across the hall. Deborah's room. Tiffany swallows the lump that had risen in her throat.

"Tiff, you coming?" Fiona calls from inside, and Tiffany enters her own room, glancing around at the familiarity of the room she'd shared with her twin for twenty-four years.

"Yeah," Tiffany answers unnecessarily, dropping down into a cushioned chair. Deborah had sneaked in and woken her up with a bucket of ice water once, when she was little. She'd repaid the effort with a similar maneuver. Now, she would give anything to wake up shivering and wet, with Deborah's grinning face hovering over her.

It can't happen, though, however much Tiffany yearns for it - Deborah is dead. She isn't coming back.

"Boo!" Fiona shrieks, causing Tiffany to jump with a startled cry. "What are we doing up here?" Fiona asks rhetorically. "I want to go find Sieran."

Tiffany shrugs. "Nothing stopping you. I'll tell Petra where you went." Except, Petra's insistence on them not leaving might -

"Alright," Fiona says, interrupting Tiffany's thoughts. "See you later!"

Tiffany watches her sister disappear in a puff of blue, and gets the strong urge to call her back. What if she doesn't return? Perhaps Petra has the right idea.

Tiffany reminds herself that Fiona is a capable fighter, and an even more capable Deceiver, and definitely competent enough to deal with herself in a dangerous situation. Claw Island had been different.

Deborah had been a dedicated soldier, staunchly loyal to Queen Jennah and Kryta. She had risked her life many times in defense of her country, and Deborah is the reason Tiffany had been at the gates of Divinity's Reach the day her 'earth side' had entered Tyria.

Deborah had had a unique relationship with Beorn, despite not being a ranger herself; the two had even conspired against her occasionally, like the time Beorn had distracted her so that Deborah could sneak up and surprise Tiffany, or when Beorn had told her, during a Deborah-the-monster game, that it was safe around the corner.

Those things will never happen again. No furious curse-wars, no laughing at Deborah's unerring tickle tactics, no falling asleep to Deborah's mysterious stories of the centaur war, with their magic and ferocity. Like a hole in her life, Deborah is gone - completely. Only memory is left.

Tiffany crosses the hall to Deborah's room - a simple mirror of her own, but designed for one person and full of Deborah. Tiffany had hid under this table once, when planning her own mischief. Deborah had found her easily and chased her all over the tavern, and exacted a vicious toll of laughter before she let Tiffany go.

Tiffany glances over her shoulder. Most of her memories of this room involve Deborah scaring her wits out; Deborah had guarded this room dutifully, and Tiffany was only allowed in if she sneaked in. Realization sets in, though - Deborah never will make her panic so hard again. Her existence won't cause her heart to thump painfully in Tiffany's chest when hiding in here; she won't be able to keep Tiffany out with a tickle-threat again.

Tiffany walks further into the room, stepping lightly by habit, and wishing it was more than that. Beorn follows her in - he used to remain always by the door to alert her when Deborah was coming.

Deborah had carved her name into the mantlepiece above the fireplace when she'd first made it into the Screaming Falcon division. A newer carving added her rank as a Sergeant of that regiment. In the headboard over her bed she'd carved her oath of loyalty to the crown, and on the doorway are the first ones Deborah had put there - T, B, F, D, P and A. The first letters of each family member's name.

Family had meant the world to Deborah. She'd put Tiffany first because 'it's her dagger; why wouldn't I?' as Deborah had shrugged to Andrew when he asked why his initial was last. Tiffany had never asked for the real reason. Deborah valued what she carved above all else, particularly the nuances. She wouldn't have put Tiffany first just because it was her dagger.

Tiffany's eyes fill with tears as she runs her fingers over the words carved in the wood. It had been Tiffany's dagger; Deborah had taken it as a keepsake once, during a tickle game, and never gave it back. She'd used it to carve her furniture, and Petra had always sighed over it.

Tiffany knows that Deborah had even carved FAMILY into the hilt of her sword, always reminding her of who she fought for even above her queen and country.

Tiffany finds the dagger where she knows she would find it - under Deborah's pillow, to 'keep Tiffany from stealing it, the little minx' as Deborah had once told a Seraph friend. Tiffany could have retrieved it at any time, with Deborah out and on Seraph business so often, but she hadn't.

Now, she cries over the little knife. Deborah won't ever play keep-away with it, won't supposedly change the hiding place as she had asserted so often, won't tease Tiffany by her possession of it by fiddling with it while they talked. She won't carve with it again; won't use it to express what she cares about.

She can't. She's dead. Tiffany won't ever hear her speak again, won't ever be mercilessly tickled by the vengeful older sister, won't ever snap 'whatever' in that smugly superior tone.

The Tassof Tavern without Deborah, Tiffany foresees, is a bleak, dull place with grief permeating its very walls. Deborah's spirit is in the foundation of it, and the echo of her voice rings from top to bottom.

Tiffany glances around the forbidden bedroom, and her eyes fall on another carving, one she hadn't known about. Some must fight so that all may be free.

Tiffany's breath comes in ragged gasps as she takes in the meaning of the message. She reaches out tentatively, caressing the letters. Deborah had carved this as a sign of her loyalty to the Vigil, to fighting the dragons, to protecting the innocent.

Some must fight so that all may be free.

Deborah had dedicated herself to the Vigil as surely as she had fought for the Seraph, and in doing so, she had been following in Tiffany's footsteps, as Tiffany had in hers when she set out to Shaemoor. Wonder replaces tears as Tiffany caresses the rough cuts in the wood.

The deep meaning of the carving is not lost on Tiffany - a meaning too deep for words. In this carving, Deborah acknowledges her loyalties transcending Kryta and the crown. The words exemplify her following her sister in defending Tyria. In the rough wood, she recognizes the threat of the Elder Dragons. In the dagger still clutched tightly in Tiffany's hand, Deborah had expounded, in the deepest way she knew how, that she, Deborah, possessed the ability and skill to help fight them. The meaning of the message itself tells of her commitment, her belief and loyalty, to such a concept.

She had died in the service of the Vigil - and had thought that cost worth it. Worth it to let Tiffany live on, fighting the dragons. The tears flow freely again. It had been her Tyrian side's biggest dream, to surpass Deborah, to show that she could be like her, could help in a way that the Tassof family was not already helping.

But why, oh why, did such recognition have to come with her sister's death? Her initial had been first because Deborah knew in her heart that Tiffany would surpass her; Andrew's initial had been last because he had never aspired to be anything more than a tavernkeeper.

Some must die so that others may fight. That is the real message here.

Forgal arrives at the tavern and is greeted by Tiffany and Fiona, who are both acting a bit strange. They keep glancing at Petra with unreadable expressions, for one thing.

Finally, when Tiffany informs Petra that she and Fiona are going upstairs, Petra smirks at them and heads into the basement. She nods when she returns, and Tiffany and Fiona bring Forgal up.

"What's going on?" he asks them.

They trade unreadable looks while blushing.

"Come on," Forgal teases. "What's going on?"

"Petra put a tether on us," Fiona mumbles at last.

Forgal gapes for a moment, then starts laughing.

"It's not funny!" Tiffany protests. "She doesn't want us to die, so she won't let us leave!"

Forgal frowns. "That is… problematic," he points out. The unsaid 'but also, I can sympathize' that all of them feel is understood by all of them.

"I know," Tiffany sighs. "They're designed to keep us from waypointing, as well."

"They're designed for toddlers," Forgal reminds her, a trace of humor in his voice. "They keep children on a leash, but there's nothing to stop you from taking the tetherstone from Petra."

"We know where it is," Fiona points out. "It's in the basement. We know how to get it. But we can't - not without Petra noticing. We'd have to leave immediately.

"Then," Forgal says, amused by the whole thing, "wait until you leave to take it from her. Take it and waypoint out. Deal with the tetherstone itself later." Forgal nods decisively. "Now we've got that settled - and I am going to tease you with this forever - I would like to speak about what I came here for."

"Oh, certainly," Tiffany says, nodding.

"Just before I came here, I spoke with General Almorra," Forgal tells them. "She said that Deborah's body had been… found… on Claw Island."

"Really?" Tiffany asks eagerly.

Forgal winces. "Well… in a manner of speaking. She's been Risen."

Tiffany gapes at him. "I can't believe I didn't think of that! Of course she'd be Risen…" Tiffany slumps in her chair. "We'll have to… deal with her… won't we?"

Fiona nods, her eyes haunted. "She's been Risen," she repeats in a hollow voice.

"I suppose we'll find out when we can… put her to rest… tomorrow morning," Tiffany notes grimly, her eyes blazing in determination. "Zhaitan won't get away with this one."

"Why, what's tomorrow morning?" Forgal asks, glancing between them.

"Oh, we didn't tell you?" Fiona asks, shaking herself and returning to the conversation. "Trahearne wants to meet us, Sieran and Vriré tomorrow morning. It's about something we saw in the Dream, from what he said."

"In the Dream?" Forgal queries.

"We'll explain it all tomorrow morning," Tiffany assures him. "Easier to do it with Sieran and Vriré there, you know."

Forgal nods. He doesn't trust Vriré - she's of the Order of Whispers, for one thing, and while he trusts Tiffany and Fiona, they are different. Vriré high-ranking and well-respected within the Order. "Where are we meeting?" he asks.

"Mystic Forge," Tiffany replies. "Is there any word on when we are going to retake the Keep?"

"General Almorra wants to return tomorrow, and she'll be leading the attacking force," Forgal tells her. "I'm not sure whether it's going to be a Pact effort or a Vigil one, but I assume we'll find out then."

Tiffany nods. "Alright. Now, you said you spoke with General Almorra just before you came here, but that was after you said you wanted to speak with us."

"You told me your biggest secret - you know the future - but you mentioned there was something else," Forgal reminds her.

"Oh, that!" Fiona realizes. "Well… as it turns out… how do you want to tell this, Tiff? It's kind of harder to explain."

Tiffany frowns in thought for a moment. "Okay," she says after a moment. "Imagine there are other worlds. Like, there's Tyria, but there's also other places with different magic and different rules and different people and types of people. Me and Fiona know about at least one other - in it, the only sentient people are humans, there is no magic and what there is is looked down upon as dark, forbidden stuff. There are no dragons and no other big threats, and humanity is divided into races based on lineage and geographical location."

Forgal blinks at her. "That is hard to imagine," he informs her.

"I know," Tiffany admits. "The other hard thing to grasp is that they have asuran-level technology, without the use of magitech."

Forgal's eyes widen. "How is that possible?"

"They have a better understanding of physics," Fiona suggests, "without magic, either as hindrance or crutch. Also, they don't have asura to do it for them." She smirks at Tiffany. "Also, there is instantaneous nonmagical communication, flying for travel purposes, weather prediction, and instant access to any book you want to read from almost anywhere."

"And you know about this… how?" Forgal asks, being the only thing he can think of.

"Well… we're kind of from there, originally," Tiffany says slowly. "We were born and raised on earth."

"That world is called 'earth?'" Forgal asks, skeptical. "They called their whole world literally 'dirt?'"

Tiffany shrugs. "Not sure where the word came from. Also, it's only roughly six thousand years old, with the dating system having to do with a whole different event than the Exodus of the Gods."

"So how did you get here from there?" Forgal asks, frowning.

"That is the other half of this secret," Tiffany tells him. "I'd like you to get a bit more acquainted with earth first, because a lot of the mindblowing and foreign technology was involved. And, admittedly, probably a bit of magic, too."

"Right, you said no magic on earth," Forgal recalls. "Could you… elaborate?"

"Well, to get the obvious out of the way," Fiona says, "there was no such thing as the Aspects. No mesmers, no elementalists, no nothing. People would sometimes pretend to do silly tricks - pull things out of midair - but it was all setup and not really magic. Real magic was all about summoning evil spirits and stuff, and was rare, and aside from that - no magic whatever at all."

Forgal frowns, trying to imagine such a world.

"I know, it's probably kinda hard," Tiffany says sympathetically. "As far as I've seen, Tyria doesn't have much in the way of fictional fantasy stories - a sad loss, if you ask me - so imagining different worlds must be harder."

"So, earth has a lot of these?" Forgal asks.

"Yes," Fiona nods. "They take us to bazillions of different worlds, though, as far as I've seen, none defy the laws of physics or anything. At a very base level, all the worlds are similar."

Tiffany tilts her head in thought. "It would be interesting to see a story where the laws of physics didn't rule. The only time they don't is when magic intervenes, but…"

"Back on track, Tiff," Fiona laughs. She turns to Forgal. "One of those fictional fantasy stories was about Tyria."

Realization dawns on Forgal as he realizes this is how they know the future. "Oh," he notes. "So, you took the place of somebody in the story?"

Tiffany nods. "Essentially, yes. Except that somebody was the most dynamic character in the world. He or she could be any race, any profession, with any number of different backgrounds depending on race, any number of specializations depending on profession, any one of the three Orders, not to mention all the different choices he or she could make along the way. And since the player made all the choices, the character themself didn't actually have a personality of their own."

Forgal frowns. "But how…?"

"Because the person - like me and Tiffany - who was playing the story could choose how the story went," Fiona explains. "There were a host of different things programmed in, and you just had to choose your path as you went."

"There were only a few key points where all the storylines came together," Tiffany tells him. "For example, all the Vigil missions were the same regardless of race. In the story, you would have taken me to quell the Renegades and Separatists even if I'd been a charr, norn, asura or sylvari. On the other hand, Priory members would not - they go with Sieran to find out more about the dredge."

"Well, that makes sense," Forgal notes. "The Orders are interracial; none of us care about the race, just the ability."

"Yes, and that's the point," Tiffany agrees. "However, there are a few major, pivotal moments and missions that occur no matter which Order you chose to join in the story - such as the Pact, the defeat of Zhaitan, and other such things. However, after the defeat of Zhaitan, most of the awesome story-choice things go away, and I'm kind of grumpy over that. Not anymore, of course - I'm in Tyria, now, I have choice over the words I say, and I couldn't control the main character's words in the story."

"And yet you insist on quoting them," Fiona points out.

"I don't quote myself, that would be weird," Tiffany counters. "I mean, I'm sure I've said things similar to my character, but that's because the character says the basic stuff and doesn't have any speech patterns. She's got to be dynamic. But anyway, Forgal, that's how we know the future."

"I kinda figured that out," Forgal notes. Tiffany knew his future from a fantasy story? She knows everything from a fantasy story? He would dearly love to point out that her knowledge can't be that reliable, but she had predicted… a lot of things. Like the formation of the Pact, his own death - which had been replaced by Deborah's - and other such things.

The problem, he realizes, lies in the fact that his closest friend - both of his closest friends - had come to him to get to know him and be his friends based on a story! He'd previously thought that they'd lived through the future, or perhaps had memories of it that didn't exactly come from a direct participation in those events. It does explain why Tiffany had been so calm - well, comparatively - when discussing people's future deaths. She'd known about them from a story.

He wonders how she really felt when he died in the story. Had she been devastated, or had she moved on without a second thought? How invested in the story had she been? He shoves the doubt aside, though. Tiffany cares for him as he cares for her, and he had trusted her with many things, including the whole Order of Whispers thing.

Admittedly, that had been a lot easier once she revealed her future knowledge - and he still doesn't trust other Whispers agents - but the fact that he'd trusted her before he knew that says a lot about their friendship. Those are the sorts of things he had thought about deeply before committing himself, and he isn't about to doubt her now, not after all that.

It still irks him slightly, though - even counting in the fact it is his fault for not asking for the other side of the secret sooner. "So," he asks finally, "how much did you know about Tyria before you came here?"

"Enough to have brain-washed myself into believing it was real before I came," Tiffany replies promptly. "I didn't just play Hero of Shaemoor to killing Mordremoth, I went and looked up all the history - there was a prequel concerning the events of all sorts of things, like Orr's sinking and rising, the human-charr conflict in Ascalon, and all sorts of other things. I didn't play the prequel, but I researched all the historical information it contained. I was familiar with maps of Tyria, everything. We both fit right in when we arrived."

Forgal frowns, noticing something. "You keep saying 'play' - isn't this a book?"

Tiffany sighs. "This is the awful lot of technology I'd warned about. It isn't a book, it's a video game. Think asuran console, used for entertainment. You control one character and run around the world, doing things. And people talk - not like golems, which are single recorded words - but whole conversations recorded at once with emotions and emphasis."

"Interesting," Forgal mutters, picturing it. "I can see why this sort of thing hasn't taken off in Tyria - Spirits forbid the asura allow anybody to use their consoles for entertainment."

Tiffany giggles. "Right. Except they aren't really asuran consoles - they aren't holographic, for one thing, more like a flat screen. And tiny in comparison." Tiffany holds her hands apart about a foot. "This is about how big my monitor was," she informs him.

"You played Tyria on something that small?" Forgal marvels, and the sisters laugh for some reason.

"It's called Guild Wars 2," Fiona instructs him.

"You sound like a veteran of video games already," Tiffany says at the same time. "It really is bigger than it seems, at least for the sorts of things you do on a… we called them laptops, or computers. Depending on whether you could move them around much."

"So, let me get this straight," Forgal says slowly. "You lived in a different world - without magic - and you played one of these 'video games' and learned about Tyria, and then one day you arrived here?"

"Pretty much," Fiona nods.

"The question I have," Forgal notes, "is how you came to Tyria. Not the map thing, but… I don't know. What was it like on the Tyrian side?"

Tiffany tilts her head. "Well, it was like our whole history had been preparing us so that when we arrived…"

"First, you've got to remember that we only got here about six m…" Fiona trails off. "A Season and a half ago." At Forgal curious glance, she elaborates, "I was about to use an earth unit of time measurement. Twelve months in a year, four weeks in a month. We had seasons, but we didn't use them for measuring time."

Forgal nods. "I see."

Tiffany picks up again. "So, we kind of replaced the people who had been living our life before, but they were so similar to us. In fact, I'm not entirely sure if our memories weren't just added to 'who we were before.' 'Who we were before' had the same personality as us, though, so we can't tell the difference. That's Beorn's theory, anyway, and his opinion is kind of the one that matters most."

Forgal grimaces. "I can't imagine my companion suddenly being somebody else, but with the same personality… that would be quite odd."

Tiffany nods. "I think Beorn's attitude - that it's just extra memories - is the reason why I feel more at home in Tyria. I've noticed that, more and more, I've started ignoring my original world in favor of belonging to this one. For example, I haven't lived in this room for a Season and a half, I've lived in it for twenty-some years. I just noted that earlier today, Fiona. I thought 'twenty-four years' and didn't even think about the fact that it's kind of weird in that area."

Fiona frowns. "That's… odd, I guess. I still feel like I'm a visitor in Tyria, honestly. I mean, I have the memories of a life here, and I care about the people I've grown up with, but I just don't feel… home."

"Here's the test," Forgal suggests. "If you could go back to earth, would you? If you couldn't come back here after."

Tiffany frowns for a moment. "No, I don't think so," she says at last. "I suppose it depends who I could take with me."

"Just yourself," Fiona replies. "You wouldn't want to take anybody else out of their native land, would you?"

"Right," Tiffany nods. "In that case, I'd stay here. Dragons need killing, lives need saving…"

"In return for other lives," Fiona mutters under her breath, but Forgal catches it.

He frowns; Fiona is obviously talking about Deborah. Does she… resent him for not dying? Does she think he is to blame for Deborah's death?

Tiffany, who hadn't heard the comment, continues brightly, "and I have friends here. Not that I don't have friends on earth," she adds, with a frown, "but… I don't know. I have more friends in Tyria, I guess. I do miss Tangwen, though…"

"I know," Fiona worries.

Forgal grimaces. "Your situation is worse than it looks on first sight," he says sympathetically.

"We didn't even think about any of these problems when we came in," Tiffany adds with a grimace of her own. "We thought 'ooh! Tyria's real!' and jumped. It's just lucky our Tyrian selves knew how to fight, or we'd have been trampled by centaurs."

Forgal frowns. "Wait, so…"

"We didn't fight on earth, no - I was a researcher, a nerd." Tiffany replies. "Probably why I had such a strong reaction to the whole 'end-of-Mordremoth' thing…"

The whole 'story' thing is coming into perspective to Forgal. Even her stressed-out, intense conversation about Trahearne dying had been about a video game. "So you really are a nerd," he notes.

Tiffany laughs. "Yes, I was always told that. I believed Tyria was real, even if, in my heart of hearts, I didn't. But I was right, though! Tyria is real, and I'm changing history." She smiles smugly.

Author's Notes:

This chapter was a bit longer than normal, but that's okay, it's the epilogue. (Did Reforging the Edge have a longer-than-normal epilogue?)

However, the fact that it is an epilogue means it's time to say goodbye to Book Four: Trinity Rising. It's been a wild ride - full of highly-anticipated things (like the Dream) to the really-big chapter that marked both the anniversary of the Tassof Series, the eightieth chapter in the series, and the launch into the whole Pact thing.

Again, it's been a wild ride, and Trinity Rising may remain unequaled for momentuous events - the biggest turning point in the Tassof Series - for the rest of however many years (and anniversary chapters) it takes to write this whole long laborious project.

So, the next book will be called Book Five: The Unbroken. Yes, I stole the name from an Anet poll years ago about what to name Dragon's Watch. It's approptiate, though, which is why I chose it. (Fiona doesn't agree but won't tell me why, so I decided to use it anyway.)

Good-bye 'till next time!