Ravion, sweet Ravion. How good you have been to me. To us. It is good to have you near.
Ravion sat bolt upright. The voice inside his head was not Avarien's, but Mellonin's; how could that be?
Perhaps, he thought, he had been dreaming. And if so, then he had been a fool to leave the dream. She was nearby; two paces away as modesty demanded. He lay back down, and the gentle voice returned to his mind, nearer than near. He held his breath. Mellonin?
Ravion.
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