"What's wrong?" Carrot pushed his way through the others for a clearer view. Marron turned his head, avoiding Carrot's question and swallowing hard.

"Nothing. It must have been lack of concentration on my part." He swiped the hair out of his face, concentrating fiercely, and tried again.

The harm inflicted by the dark magic refused to heal, and the chilly breeze sweeping over the ruined church could not steal away the curse that slipped from Marron's lips.

Gateau knelt down beside the young man and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder in comfort. "We all have bad days, you know."

Marron shrugged off the embrace with a ferocity pending on violence, stood up too quickly and nearly fell down again, weakened by the amount of energy he'd used trying to heal Minda. Why isn't it working?! I put so much energy behind that spell! Gateau caught him on his way down again, and Marron slapped away the supporting arms, righted himself, and stalked off a distance.

This isn't Marron. He's never like this, Carrot thought wistfully. He called out to his brother's back, hoping to elicit some response of normalcy.

"Marron? What's the matter?"

Even from that distance, there was no mistaking the set of the young Mage's shoulders. This was anger and frustration on a 'hurt my brother and I'll send you to Enma early' scale. Marron turned around, eyes blazing, face a mask of anger and despair.

"What do you think is wrong?! They're dead, Carrot. All dead. I should have been here to help, and now I can't even heal her," he gestured wildly to where Minda lay, prostrated in Tira's arms.

Gears turned in Carrot's head. "Ah, now I got it! Marron's got a crush on Minda!"

Chocolate thumped him over the head, hard, and he yelped satisfactorily. "It's neither the time nor the place, Darling."

Tira passed the unconscious girl to her sister, dusted herself off, and walked cautiously over to where Marron stood with his hands entwined in his hair; an uncharacteristically shaking pile of nerves. She took one of his hands and held it firmly before he could shrug her off.

"Marron, I have a theory. Maybe the reason you can't heal her is because the harm was inflicted by more powerful magic than you possess. It doesn't matter that much anyway; she'll heal in time. We can take her home and look after her. It's not fair to blame yourself for this mess either. If you'd been here, you'd just've ended up another dead body, and we'd have nobody to help us get Big Mama back."

He sighed, and inspected his shoes, suddenly embarrassed about his outburst. "I hadn't even thought about Big Mama. But you have valid points. I just feel completely…useless."

"That's understandable. But we need you, Marron. Come on, let's get away from this place, ne?" she tugged gently at his hand, and he let himself be guided reluctantly back to the others.

Leaving the still-unconscious Minda in the care of Tira and Onion; Gateau, Carrot, Chocolate and Marron left the next morning to begin their search for Mama and the dark power which plagued Minda's body.

Marron had led off, fuelled by a combination of certainty, instinct and anger. Carrot jogged ahead a few paces to catch up.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"I don't know. I'll tell you when we get there."

Carrot shrugged and dropped back to walk beside Chocolate, then tensed and called out again.

"Hey! What the hell sort of answer is that?!"

Marron slowed to a halt and turned to face his friends. "Give me a minute, I'll ask around." And with that, he headed off the track and into the forest.

"That's better," Carrot declared, glad to be in charge again. Then he noticed where Marron had gone. "Hey! Who exactly are you going to ask? Squirrels? Birds?"

"Yes," the reply drifted back, matter-of-factly.

"Great. Just great. My only brother is going to ask directions from a squirrel," Carrot grumbled, perching himself on a nearby rock to wait as his companions followed suit.

"Why not? We relied on your pathetic sense of direction for years," Gateau snorted over his folded arms. Chocolate couldn't help but laugh, and that made Carrot angry. He scooped up a pebble and drew back his arm to hurl it at Gateau's face, but at that moment Marron returned, showing neither disappointment nor satisfaction.

"Well?" asked Gateau.

Marron took a seat on Carrot's rock.

"A lark told me there's been talk of Sorcerers using powerful magic to invoke the spirits of their dead comrades, lesser gods and the like. I suspect that's what the group that attacked the Stellar Church were doing to overcome the Knights and Big Mama, and the lark agreed. He said there was a group much like the one I described practicing in an old castle, deep in the mountains. Nothing living ever goes there, they fear the place. I scanned the area as best I could, and there's a blank area, like a shield, that I can't penetrate. I think that's where our Sorcerers have Big Mama." He took a deep breath and ventured a glance at his comrades.

"So, we're going to trust a bird?" Carrot asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Do we have a choice?" mumbled Chocolate.

"It's the best lead we have," Marron murmured absently. "Let's find somewhere to camp and think about it in the morning."

Huddled around the campfire for warmth that night, talk drifted naturally to the months Marron had spent away from his family and friends.

"What was the 'trial' or whatever you had to do to become a Mage?" Gateau directed meaningfully at Marron, who stiffened in response.

"…I…I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"Aw, come on, we're your friends!" the blond warrior protested.

"I'd tell you if I could, but I can't," Marron studied the hands in his lap to hide his change in pallor, thankful for the firelight.

"Doesn't matter, we'll just ask Minda later. When we tell her about your disturbing obsession," Carrot grinned, glad in his newfound certainty that his little brother wasn't a butt-pirate.

Marron blushed even more and found an escape route.

"There's no point asking her, she wouldn't know." Carrot cocked his head curiously.

"But I thought she was a Mage as well."

Marron stared into the fire and adopted a lilting, musing tone - a sure sign he was in a rare expansive mood.

"She is, but she's …different. Instead of having to ascend like I did, she was born that way. It's highly unusual. Both her parents were Mages, I guess you figured that out about Milphey. She never talks much about her mother. I don't know who or where she is, and I don't even know her name. I think she may be dead." Marron paused, aware he was divulging personal information without permission.

"If she was born that way…I'm scared to ask: how old is she?" Carrot flinched, preparing for the certainty she'd be older than his great grandmother…

"Same age as me. She's only nineteen. That's the age she chose to stay physically, but it's how old she really is at the moment, too."

"Phew."

Marron lifted his gaze from the dancing flames, grinning wickedly. "And you'll tell her that when you're declaring whose 'disturbing obsession'?"

Carrot blushed fiercely and swore under his breath. "Shut-up. Now, what're we going to do about the Sorcerers?"

Gateau studied his gloved fists. "I could probably take most of them if Marron can get that shield or whatever out of the way."

"Try that and you'll leave a rather ugly corpse. There's a shortage of perfect backsides in this dimension and it'd be a shame to spoil yours," a familiar voice cut in.

"What the…?" Gateau spun around and was faced with Milphey.

"But you're dead!" Carrot protested. Milphey blew him a kiss and took a seat next to him, scooting closer as Carrot bolted the other way.

"Well technically, I still am. I just pulled some strings to stop you walking straight into your graves. I've got two weeks to help you, then I'm gone, alright?"

The four nodded, stunned mute.

"Now, let's start by clearing some things up. If you go as you are, you'll all die. I know exactly what's going on there, and none of it is good. Those fools are busy invoking powerful spirits, and they've managed to resurrect someone you're not going to be happy about."

"Who's that?" Marron asked, feeling a familiar sense of foreboding creep over him.

"Zaha. They've resurrected Zaha Torte."

"They've resurrected who?!" Gateau blurted.

Milphey's effeminate and usually pretty face twisted itself into an unpleasant mask of sarcasm. He gripped the warrior's chin bruisingly and snarled through his teeth.

"One more time for Blondie. The…sorcerers…you…remember…sorcerers?"

"Nnghf," Gateau grunted through his locked jaw, trying in vain to break the other man's grip, but to no avail.

Milphey continued his drawling explanation. "…made…Zaha…not…dead." He gave up, and began to talk faster, gripping Gateau's jaw harder as he went. "Zaha's no longer dead, not-deceased-alive-and-kicking-however-you-put-it-we're-in-deep-shit. Got it now?"

The Knight eased up on Gateau's abused jaw, and the other man shoved the manicured fingers away roughly, with as much malice as he could muster. "Alright."

"Don't worry, darling, I'll protect you," cried Chocolate, grabbing Carrot's arm fiercely. For once, he was too startled to push her away.

Gateau, on the other hand, was massaging his chin and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"What're you so damn chirpy about, you musclebound ass?" Carrot growled into Gateau's general direction, satisfactorily including the Haz Knight in his snarlings. He shoved Chocolate away from himself, rubbing his arm where her fingernails had drawn blood. Seeing Gateau's smirk broaden, he scowled fiercely. "Idiot! Hasn't it entered your pea-brain yet that we're going to die here?!"

Gateau shrugged his massive shoulders. "No we're not, you stupid stork."

"Really? Well I think we'd all like to hear your grand plan for saving our collective asses. Do tell," Carrot bellowed unselfconsciously.

"We're not gonna die. We've got these two." He gestured to Marron and Milphey, who hung their heads in turn. "If I counted correctly, that's two full-blown semi-immortal Mages on our side with enough fire-power to blow this place to smithereens. And you think I'm the dumbass."

"You are," Carrot said absently, his characteristic grin creeping onto his face. "Saved by the dumbass!" He eyed his brother and Milphey thoughtfully. Neither of them looked happy or elated or even remotely comforted. "Marron? Ass-monkey?"

"Darling!" Chocolate snapped, slapping him hard. "Don't talk about Milphey like that. Whether he is or not, he came to help us."

Carrot rubbed his offended cheek and started to argue with her.

Gateau, on the other hand, in an unusually perceptive mood, noticed the look of horror on the younger Mage's face echoing the expression of the knight.

First things first, he thought smugly.

"…Marron? You okay?" he placed a hand on Marron's far shoulder, and sat down beside him, drawing the young man closer to his own chest.

Marron had spent this short interchange staring at his hands as they wrung knots in his lap, his eyes unfocused, but now he found cause for action. Elbowing his captor ineffectively in the ribs, he stood up decisively, walked over to the crestfallen knight and dragged Milphey after him towards the stream they'd camped near.

"You guessed," Milphey said despondently, taking a seat on a fallen tree. "I should have expected as much."

Marron ran his pale fingers through his dark hair in startling contrast, and nodded. Without bothering to turn and face him, he finally asked Milphey the question he'd been dreading. "You have no magic. You're completely defenceless, completely mortal. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Sort of."

Marron cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm still not technically mortal. After all, I'm not really alive or even on my own plane of existence," the Knight mumbled. "You're all we've got left. You've always looked that way, but how does it feel to have the real weight of the world on your shoulders?"

"You're not making this any easier," Marron snapped coldly.

Milphey held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, no need to get snappy." He sighed aloud, his brows drawn together in deep thought. "…I have a plan."

The expression of pain, guilt and all-round discomfort on his face completely contradicted the look of pure joy on the face of the young man who stood in front of him, lengths of ebony hair being tossed wildly by the wind, long, pale fingers clasped together at the ends of gold-capped white sleeves - the very picture of innocence to someone who didn't know him. The golden eyes bore into Milphey, the usually expressionless, shuttered windows into the heart of this contrary being alive with childish hope.

"It's a long shot, but I'll take you to meet someone. Someone almost as old as Big Mama herself, and nearly as powerful. There, you can learn to use your power more completely, and if you do, we can face Shallot with a fully-trained Mage instead of an apprentice."

"That's it? I get to die fully trained? Great. Terrific."

Milphey glared at him. "This could be just the sort of help we need, and I don't see anyone else coming up with a grand plan."

Marron grumbled an apology and sighed half-heartedly.

"There's something I want in return." Milphey's uncharacteristic request snapped him out of his musings. Marron lifted his head and looked curiously at the other man. "I…can you…" Milphey was blushing. This was certainly unusual. But I suppose he's never had to really ask for anything, Marron thought. He glanced down at Milphey's hands, which were tapping together and pulling away, like he was trying to create a viewing sphere as he struggled with words he wasn't comfortable giving air to.

Taking a seat on the log, Marron created one of his own, and Milphey looked at him with undying gratitude before staring steadfastly into it, glad he'd been understood in his awkwardness. In the wavering image, Tira sat in a chair, her head resting on a bed as she dozed. The door to the room opened, and Onion snuck in with a blanket. He straightened the sleeping healer up in her chair and draped the blanket around her shoulders before kneeling beside the bed. In it, Minda lay, looking pale and sick and small next to the giant of a man. Onion raised one great paw and brushed away a wisp of hair from her face, then stood up sadly and left. Milphey stroked the glowing orb of light, and hung his head. Marron let the sphere dissipate and left the other man to himself.

But Milphey's face didn't cloud with tears. He'd never allow himself such a selfish indulgence - tears didn't solve anything. Instead, his face was a mask of resolve, and he decided once and for all he'd do the unmentionable and ask for help from…ugh. I can't even think about it. But I'll do it for you, child. I'll be civil and diplomatic and courtly and do it for the greater good Whether or not we'll get any help remains to be seen.