Author's Note: This story is the sequel to the story Hero of AngelStone.

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The air was unbreathable and thick with smoke, choking Vinick Shephard as he rode hard in to the midst of ravage. He saw the blaze, watched the heavy outpout of smoke rise against the sky, masking noon for night. Shrilling terrified screams chilled his blood. Broken men with missing appendages would have made him turn back if he wasn't so determined on his destination.

He had just one thought in mind. He had to reach her. He had to get to her. He had to save her.

The horse bucked in rebellion to the smoke that clogged the lungs and gagged the throat. Shephard jumped off and ran. Finally, he reached the place. His body started to shaky violently at the thought of what he might find. What if she were...no, he couldn't think it. Ramming in the door with his shoulder, he went inside and searched.

On her bedroom floor, sprawled out with a frightened expression on her face, was his Elizabeth. Her own blood spilled from her body, pooling around her.

Shephard fell to his knees. "What have I done?" he whispered.

Elizabeth, standing on the brink of death, slowly gathered the energy to move her gaze to him. Her dry lips parted, her mouth working over words that refused to come out.

He wanted to gather her in his arms, but he didn't dare. The pain of touch might be enough to give her that final shove towards death.

"I'm...so..." the words came out soft, fine strands of whispers that Shephard struggled to grasp in his hearing. "...sorry, Vinnie."

He shook his head, desperate to grab her, to gather her in his arms and make it all go away, but he couldn't. He couldn't fix anything. She was far too gone, the whole village was. He was far too incompetent.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie. I'm sorry. I promised to protect you and I didn't. I failed you...I failed you." His chest filled with sobs that worked their way upwards. He felt sick. His chest heaved with the weight of the sorrow.

Elizabeth shook her head. Her eyes showed that she wanted to say more, to explain more, but her time was spent. A sickly sound of deep exhale came from within her, then her green eyes slowly shut, never to see the light of day again.

"Shephard!"

Shephard looked over his shoulder at the camp, all looking curious at him. It took him a moment to allow his eyes to see reality instead of the cloud of memory. "Yes?"

"We've been calling you but you weren't answering. Anything wrong?" Wolfe asked, holding a plate of food towards him.

Was anything wrong? Oh yes, there was plenty of things wrong with him. He spotted Hero's worried gaze. He hated when she worried.

"Everything's fine," he promised, then took his plate and walked deeper in to the forest. A river was close by, maybe he'd find some solace there.

It had only been five days on the journey from AngelStone, but his past was already catching up to him. It's what happened every time he went out in to vast wilderness for long periods of time. His mind wandered. Not finding anything to grab hold of in the plain landscape, it dug through memories until grasping upon a focus point.

He visited the scene of Elizabeth's death often. Each time, it killed him a little more. Seeing her, seeing the memory, was not by will but by force. A curse of bad imagination and detailed memory that he couldn't control.

The food on his plate all tasted like ash to him. The water he felt lap against his ankles felt like slippery blood. Thoughts of Elizabeth's death turned everything foul. It tore at his cold, dead heart and vanished his darkening soul that was now as black as the rest of him.

Sorsha was worried.

Looking at the direction to where Shephard had walked off, she said, "Why has he been acting so strangely? What's going on?"

"It's normal, don't worry," Rider mumbled, barely eating.

"Then why do you look so concerned?"

He met her gaze full on. "Shephard had a hard life. When he's on the trail, he tends to be plagued by some nasty nightmares."

She looked around the camp and saw that everyone had seen this often. Putting her plate down, Sorsha drew closer to the fire. Early spring still held winter's chill, something she wasn't very happy to experience. She missed her large bed, the warm castle, the good food. No one would tell her how long this journey would take, but she figured at least a few weeks. It had been five days so far and she was already miserable and sore.

Rider wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. "The weather will break soon," he promised.

Her gaze held that small opening of the forest where Shephard had disappeared into. She wanted to see him, see what he was doing. She still held distrust for him and he was making it hard for her to lessen it. He was so mysterious, so curious that she was forced to believe the worse for he never allowed her to believe anything else.

Shephard came back to came after two hours or so, when night was in complete effect. Sorsha was laying by a large tree, it's large roots on either side of her. Rider wasn't more than a few feet away. Everyone but Keller was fast asleep.

"I'll take over from here."

"You sure? Today looks like it was hard on you," Keller said.

"I won't be sleeping any time soon. There's no use for two people to suffer when one will do."

Keller took this as enough conviction and soon found himself lying at the head of the camp, drifting quickly towards sleep.

Shephard looked at each person, most sleeping without care. After five days, Shephard noticed that his men were beginning to become antsy. The fact that Hero watched him with suspicion with every move he made didn't fail to escape him either.

He watched her breathing soundly, her wavy red hair fanned over her small pillow and reaching in to the grass. She was so curious during the day. Her mind always searching for answers that alluded her. Answers that he held. At night, however, she seemed so innocent. So childlike.

Like Elizabeth, his heart whispered in tortured.

No, he wouldn't go there. Not again. His gaze moved from Hero to the burning fire that danced in the slight breeze and waited for daylight.

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