Hadrian had been spending more and more time at his estate. It was for Alys mostly, but also because he was reluctant to face the disintegrating realities of his command. Warren Woodwick had gone, and the military still remained a thing of disappointment to his king and commander. Little did Cassian know that he himself was a disappointment. That he’d let himself be drawn in by a woman who had no checks on her power or morals to guide it.

At any other time, a servant would have answered the knock at the door. But Hadrian happened to be passing, on his way to Alys’s room when he heard the sound. His footsteps stilled brow furrowing in wonder as to what it might be. He thought for a moment to call for Vesper, a woman who was more a comfort and consistency than anything else in his world at present. But he knew that was silly, so he went to the door.

What he found there had him blanche.

Hadrian stood there, looking upon Logan as his features blanched and his eyes widened. After a moment, he said the obvious:

“It can’t be.”

The look on Hadrian's face was evidence enough to Logan that, at the very least, he'd been gone for quite a while. He had no idea what everyone had thought had happened. All he knew was that it had been a while and that his home was empty and his family gone. He had no reason to guess that Alys might be here, but he hoped he would at least know where she was.

When he spoke his voice was hoarse and rough as if he hadn't used it properly for a while or perhaps had only been using it to scream. To be frank he couldn't remember at the moment why it sounded the way it did.

"How-" it was still painful to speak. "How long have I been gone, Hadrian?" he asked, looking at his friend in near desperation.

The man he saw before him was Logan, but only just. The man was more like a phantom, a roughly conjured image of memories past. A vision that haunted both Hadrian’s most desperate dreams and darkest nightmares. Guilt surged like a crashing wave on a stormy sea. How could Logan be alive, and those who cared for him most not know it?

“A long time,” Hadrian said, as if in a dream—for perhaps he was, “A year, I think. Maybe more.” He blinked several times before he stepped back. “Here, come in.”

If Logan did, Hadrian would lead him immediately to the sitting room, inviting him in and locking the door behind them. He didn’t need Alys—or anyone else—to come in. Not just yet.

A year?! Logan knew it hadn't been a short amount of time but a full year? He supposed it did make more sense now why he felt so different than he had before. He hadn't even fully registered exactly how different. He could tell he weighed less and that the strength in all his muscles had faded but he was only just beginning to sense what else was different. The chaos inside of him that had been plaguing him from the curse his ex-wife had put on him was also gone. Yet it didn't feel like he was free from it, not yet anyway. Instead it felt like a part of himself was missing.

Still, he could comprehend that it had really been a whole year. His brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to pull together what had happened in his mind, but there were so many blank spaces.

Hadrian invited him in and he entered much like a ghost, gliding through door, pale and empty. Logan had been here before and there was familiarity in the layout of the space. That kind of familiarity brought at least a little comfort and he was glad he had come to Hadrian. He didn't know who else to trust right now. He didn't register the door locking as he sat down as close to the fire as he could, feeling chilled to the bone.

"What-" he tried to form the right question, but what 'was' the right question? He drew a blank and looked up as his friend where fear resided along with desperation in his eyes.

Hadrian was silent for a moment, staring back at the man before him as if he were seeing a ghost. The numbness of the shock was starting to wear off as a churning sea of emotions rose to the surface. It was Logan. Logan, the friend he’d lost. The one he’d thought had been buried without ceremony. The guilt Hadrian felt now was almost too much to bear. It seemed like a lifetime that he stared, trying to make sense of the nonsensical.

And then, Hadrian reached out. He put his hand on Logan’s shoulder gently as if the phantom might disappear under its weight. But it held. With more confidence, he put his hand on Logan’s other shoulder, and that too found something fragile but solid beneath it. The numbness broke to sorrow and relief as he pulled Logan in and started to weep.

"I'm so sorry, old friend. I'm so sorry."

It was a lot, for both of them. Neither knew how to start from this point but Logan had come here for a reason. Hadrian was his friend, his closest friend, and what he needed now more than anything was a true friend. There were none truer than Hadrian. He'd always been there for him and Logan had always tried to do the same.

The touch on his shoulder was the first human contact he'd had in a year that he hadn't been fearful of though it still made his heart race as though it might be a threat. But Hadrian wasn't a threat and as the second hand fell onto his opposite shoulder and Hadrian pulled him in, Logan realized how healing touch could be. His friend's embrace was more warming than sitting by a fire could ever be and radiated through this cold, weak form of his body.

His arms wrapped around Hadrian's back, fingers clutching into the shirt he wore as Hadrian's emotion unlocked his own. Tears welled in his eyes as he buried his face into his friend's shoulder and let himself truly realize how afraid and lost he felt. He clung to Hadrian as if this was the only safe place in the world and by holding onto him he could keep the demons away.

"They took me," he sobbed. "They took me and broke me and I don't know how I got away and- and I feel lost in my own body and my own mind. I feel all wrong." He clung to him harder. "And I don't know where they are. Hadrian, did they take my family too? I don't know where they are."

Hadrian held Logan tight, as tight as one would their own brother. For that’s what they were—despite all that had happened between them, they were brothers in arms still. He let Logan sob, still crying himself as he rubbed Logan’s back.

“Alys is alive. The children are fine. They’ve been staying here, since…” Hadrian trailed off, realizing just how much Logan had missed. He broke their embrace, and started to guide Logan to a chair. “You should sit. Have something to drink…”

Hadrian poured them both a stiff whiskey, putting the glass in Logan’s hand before pulling a chair close.

“Who took you? What do you mean?”

Alys and his children were here. They were here and safe. The relief he felt at that was immeasurable though he was in no place mentally or emotionally to try to even take a moment to consider why there here of all places. All he felt was gratitude. Immense gratitude for his friend who had taken it upon himself to care for his family while he'd been away.

He allowed Hadrian to guide him to the chair and sat down, taking the drink with trembling hands as he tried to take calming breaths. He took a large swallow of the whiskey, feeling it warm him from the inside out, and coughing a bit on how strong the drink was after so long without anything quite like it in his system.

"I don't know who they were...a year?" he still couldn't believe it had been that long. "I was at home and started having a panic attack. I left the house, feeling that...chaos that had been building inside of me growing to levels I couldn't control. I just knew I needed to get outside, somewhere away from my children, just in case something happened. Alys wasn't home...I don't- I don't remember where she was.

That feeling became uncontrollable, I felt it burst out of me in one large blast. Trees were felled and just before I fell unconscious as a result I saw several cloaked and hooded figures rushing towards me and taking hold of me. I don't know how long I was out but when I woke up I was in a dark, windowless room, lying on a wooden table-" he gaze was distant as he told the story, staring into the way the amber liquid in his glass reflected the orange glow of the fire as he recalled what happened to him. "I remember feeling the splintering wood under my fingertips but I couldn't move them. I couldn't move at all."

He squinted his eyes then and turned his head away as if trying to block out what had been done to him. "Everything hurt. They told me that the curse that had caused all that chaos didn't rightfully belong to me. That a man should not have magic like that, that it belonged to witches. They clawed the magic out of me. I've never felt pain like that before, like the curse had been knitted into the very cells of my bones and they were scraping it out bit by bit." He took another swallow of the whiskey, desperate for it's affects to numb him to the memories that now flooded his mind. "I never knew who they were. They always remained masked and rarely spoke."

Hadrian would refill Logan’s glass after he took his first drink as if it were an elixir that could heal the damage done. Hadrian’ listened quietly with his brow tightly furrowed on his face in severe, perplexed anger. Anger, because he knew no other way to feel. Even as Logan told his tale, Hadrian could only half process everything the man had to say. Logan: his brother, the man he’d mourned, whose wife he’d—

No. Hadrian reined his thoughts in, focused on the whiskey that was flowing freely past his lips. Every mention of Logan’s suffering was felt in his own body, though he could not even imagine what it must have been. When Logan had finished, Hadrian was quiet for a long moment. He simply stared—not at Logan, but somewhere past him before his eyes refocused.

“We’ll find them,” Hadrian said quietly, “No one else needs to know. We’ll deal with them as you see fit.” For Hadrian had ceased to trust anyone else’s judgment but his own. He took another swallow of his whiskey, the furrow in his brow loosening to sorrow as his eyes scanned the brittle form of his friend.

“I…I,” Hadrian searched, “Tell me how to help you. What do you need? Goddesses, I don’t know where to begin…”

The part of him that craved order and justice was grateful for what Hadrian said. They would find them. It wasn't even fully about what he had endured but that whoever had done it could then continue to do this to others. He didn't know what their goal would be. If their goal was to take his curse from him then he didn't know if there would be others who they felt had the same kind of maladies. Maybe he was the first and last. But he couldn't believe that it would just be the end for them.

He nodded his thanks to Hadrian as he drank more of the whiskey, letting it numb the painful memories. Logan didn't even need to take a moment to think when Hadrian asked what he needed. "Alys." It came out of his mouth without any forethought at all because what else could he need. It seemed that nearly from the time he had met Alys it had always been her. "I don't know what to do from there, but I need to see her. You said she was here? My family?" he asked, his distant gaze as he told his story fully focusing on Hadrian now.

Alys. Of course, Alys. A touch of surprising jealousy flared up in his chest.

Hadrian’s glass paused mid-transit to his lips. It hovered there for a long moment before continuing. He took a gulp before slowly setting it down on the table. “She’s here, yes,” He started carefully, “Safe—and the children too. I’ve been caring for them. But…” Hadrian did look at Logan then, an apology behind his eyes, “I don’t know if you seeing her is the best thing right now. For either of you.” Hadrian considered lying to him for a moment but then decided against it.

“Regan Lassiter tried to kill her. Attempted to burn her alive, by the looks of it. She’s been through hell, Logan. I don’t know if she could take…” Hadrian trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought he’d started.

Logan was about to argue when Hadrian gave his reason why. Regan? Regan had tried kill Alys? The news distracted him momentarily. "Wait, what? Why? For what purpose would Regan have to do something to Alys? What happened? I'm sure Regan is being detained for the attack at least?"

His mind was racing. He knew there was something about Regan that was particularly dangerous but he was struggling to member the specifics. Bits and pieces from his life before were not as solid as they once were and he fought hard to try to bring back the memories. Perhaps whatever his captors had done had been the catalyst for this memory loss. Fire? He had a feeling it had something to do with fire which seemed even more likely given that Hadrian said it seemed she'd tried to burn Alys alive. Alys.

"Please Hadrian, you need to let me see her. No, it won't be easy. But you know her nearly as well as I do. How do you think she'll feel, what do you think she'll do, if she finds out she wasn't informed immediately?"

Revisiting Alys’s attack had the ire he’d first felt kicking up anew. Aly’s face, the first time he’d first seen it. The fact that she’d do nothing—could do nothing—to seek justice. The fact that woman was still out there, walking free, threatening to attack her or another at any moment (or so Hadrian had come to believe).

“Alys’s curse—her werewolf form—all of Nevermere knows of it now. For one reason or another, Alys believes Regan took that as a threat. Attacked her…goddess knows why. Jealousy, perhaps. Alys won’t answer all my questions. The king knows but keeps Regan at his side like a pet despite what she’s done. Lassiter walks free—but Alys will do nothing. For one reason or another…it’s as if Alys is protecting them too. I…” Hadrian sputtered in anger. He huffed through his nose, shaking his head and taking a swig of whiskey.

“No. I have to do what’s best for her. I’ve requested that she be sent to Arynn Frey—perhaps when she returns, when you’re stronger, when she’s healed…but…” Hadrian shook his head, “I’m sorry Logan. I can't risk her trying to stay in Nevermere. Not now.”