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“There’s so much we might never know,” Fiona whispered and looked into that radiance as if there were answers there she desperately wanted.

Caemorn wondered about her past as Wyvern. Perhaps she had lost someone she could not turn. Or maybe they died in the War and left this plane. Did she remember any of it? Or did her heart just ache? She’d always kept herself apart as if she feared contact with others, except for Arcius. That was the one friendship that she had seemed to bloom under.

“Or perhaps there is nothing! Maybe one is simply turned into energy and recreated as a planet or something,” Balthazar said with a shrug.

He, evidently, had no desire to leave life.

“You cannot believe that, Balthazar.” Fiona’s arms were crossed over her chest tightly. “Can’t you feel the purpose here?”

“All I feel is cold, uncomfortable and hungry,” Balthazar quipped.

Christian smiled at him. “Then we mustn’t keep you any longer from the comfort of your manor.” He turned back to the well and his smile became a grim look of determination. “I need to speak with Julian’s parents. How do I do this, Caemorn?”

There was the slightest hesitation on his part and Balthazar’s head snapped towards him. “Caemorn! Tell me you know how to use this thing to locate Julian’s parents and that you didn’t bring my fledgling out here on a hunch!”

Caemorn narrowed his eyes at the Eyros Vampire. “There has not been a Speaker to the Dead in my lifetime nor yours nor Fiona’s. At least, this life anyways. So everything is a hunch. I was just gathering my thoughts.”

Balthazar opened his mouth and pointed at Balthazar’s chest. “Gathering your--”

Christian grasped his Master’s wrist and gently lowered that accusatory arm. “It’s okay, Balthazar. Caemorn’s hunches are pretty good. Besides, he’s all we’ve got and I’m willing to try anything.”

Balthazar pinched the top of his nose. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“So where do we begin?” Christian asked Caemorn.

“We must approach the well. I do not think it wise for Fiona or Balthazar to accompany us,” Caemorn said. “The ghosts are disturbed by our kind, and it seems even more so, by the Immortals.”

In fact, the souls were keeping a wide berth from Fiona and Balthazar. They were like rocks in a river that split the stream. Spirits were pouring in from every direction, but avoiding them like the plague.

“They can keep their distance.” Balthazar made a moue of distaste.

“The faster I do this, the faster we can leave.” Christian kissed Balthazar’s cheek after he said this.

But when Christian made to move towards the well, once again, Balthazar put a restraining hand on his fledgling’s shoulder.

“Christian,” Balthazar said through gritted teeth, casting nervous glances at the well. “I don’t like this.”

“I know, but I need to try and help the Harrows,” Christian told him gently.

“We have no idea if this is going to work!” Balthazar hissed. “Caemorn only gives it a 25 percent chance!”

“Regardless if it works as we hope or not, it will teach Christian something,” Caemorn told him.

“You mean it will teach you something!” Balthazar shook his head in disgust. “This well fascinates you and it has since you first read about it!”

“Indeed. And I was the one to rediscover it,” Caemorn said proudly.

Balthazar might know that from reading his thoughts and Fiona knew it from their long acquaintance--not to mention his accomplishments were required reading for all members of the Order--but Christian had not known it. And, for some reason, he wanted to impress the young man.

“I know the well seems frightening,” Christian began.

“It doesn’t just seem, Christian. It is,” Fiona said wryly.

Christian smiled back at her. “I suppose it is. But if it helps the Harrows I will embrace it.”

“Now that is the correct spirit,” Caemorn said.

Balthazar shot him a look. Caemorn ignored it. Christian removed Balthazar’s hand from his shoulder, kissed it, and stepped over to Caemorn.