* * *
Disoriented, Vincent found himself once again on the jeweled shore. For a while, he simply watched the waves, waiting for signs of the woman. As time passed, his feelings of guilt grew. "I can't leave her to die," he said to himself, but before he reached the shoreline, there was a stirring amid the waves.
A moment later the armored woman emerged from the water, her face a mask of pain. Blackened flesh was visible through a gash in her armor, and she stumbled in the surf. Vincent helped her to shore. "How badly are you hurt?"
"Bad enough," she said. "You really shouldn't have said that name."
"You owe me some answers."
"Agreed, but I've got to clean this wound first. They hurt as badly here as they do on the Earth plane."
The burning sensation on Vincent's neck gave proof to her words. Gruesomer's axe had left a jagged gash in her breastplate, and sharp edges tore at her flesh. It took all of Vincent's strength to pull the twisted metal away. When he was finally able to pry her breastplate free, the extent of her wounds became clear. Minor gashes and cuts surrounded an angry chasm of severed and charred flesh that wept more than it bled.
"Help me back to the water. I need to be cleansed."
"Are you certain you wish to wash in the sea? Shouldn't we find some fresh water?" Vincent asked.
"The water in this place is special and will help to heal me. If you are ever wounded, try to get back to the water." Vincent watched as she cleaned her wound, and though it did not heal before his eyes, he could already see improvement. The flesh no longer looked as angry and puffy as it had, but then she covered it with a soft cloth.
"Was it you that ran out in front of me?" Vincent asked, his patience at its end.
"Yes," she said, and she met his eyes. There was no hint of malice. "I called you back to this plane."
"Why would you do such a thing? Why should I not hate you for that?"
She reeled from his words as if he had struck her, and he thought he saw her lip quiver. Something about that sight tugged at the back of his mind, as if there were something he should remember but could not. The woman remained silent, seemingly bereft of words.
"Will you at least tell me your name?" he asked.
She looked up at him before responding. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you're ready yet. I promise I'll tell you soon, but let me tell you some other things first."
"Did you call Joan as well?" Vincent asked. "Is that why she died?"
"The demons killed Joan. They did it to prevent me from calling you back. They didn't think I would have the strength to take you away from your daughter, knowing it would leave her an orphan. Making you feel responsible for Joan's death was among their primary goals."
They had succeeded, Vincent thought, and his heart hurt so bad that he could barely listen, yet he needed to know. "If I'm dead, why isn't Joan here? Why didn't she meet me?"
"I'm sorry, Kevriel. Joan challenged the demons too soon—before she was ready—and she was sent back to the Earth plane."
"Sent back?"
"Yes," the woman said. "As a newborn child."
Vincent swayed, the foundation of his beliefs shattered by what he heard. He had always thought that Joan would be there waiting for him when he passed on, but now it seemed he had lost her twice, and the pain was almost more than he could stand.
"Kindra is the incarnation of a rare and old soul," she said. "This is her first experience on the Earth plane; never before had she been defeated. She was among the most powerful figures on the side of the light. We were hard pressed when she was with us, and we struggle in her absence. The demons have grown in strength and numbers. We need her back."
Vincent had always known that Kindra was special, but hearing the woman speak of her in such a way filled him with a strange mixture of pride and anger. "No," he said. "You may not call my daughter back to this plane. She's an innocent little girl and she deserves a happy life. I won't let you kill her."
"I don't want to kill her," the woman said as she backed away from Vincent's aggression. "We need her to survive until she is at least in her twenties. If she were to die now, she would not be strong enough. We don't have time to argue about this now; the dark forces are gathering, and Kindra needs your protection. Some of the demons we will encounter will be of my own making. I'm sorry. I visited the Earth plane only once, and I made many mistakes. I may never be able to atone for what I did there. You've already met one of my demons, and I'm ashamed to admit that there are more."
Vincent looked up.
"I cannot undo my evil deeds. I can only try to offset them with the good I do now."
Vincent drew a breath and was about to speak, but the woman cut him off.
"My name is Dardra."
An eruption of memory sent Vincent reeling, and he was nearly overwhelmed by the flood of information and emotion that must have been hiding in the deepest recesses of his soul, waiting to be unleashed.
Dardra loved him and he had both loved and hated her. Each time he was sent to the Earth plane, he fell in love with someone else, but Dardra always waited for him. She was always there to guide him or mislead him, depending on how he looked at it. We have done this before rang in his ears. The smell of dandelions once again drifted to him, and he remembered an afternoon spent rolling in grasses filled with what most considered weeds, but they were Dardra's favorite.
Memory of another soul came to the fore, a mighty and honorable soul, one that he had always adored. Kindra was the name he and Joan had given her when she was born, but her true name was Tiniatha. Faded visions came to Vincent from a distant past, and he saw himself kneeling before her, swearing to protect her.
"There is no more time, Kevriel. We must go. Tiniatha needs you."
"But your wound—"
Dardra smiled and pulled back the cloth she'd been holding over her wound; her flesh was scarred but whole, and when she turned over her breastplate, it, too, was whole. "Some things work differently here," she said. "Now let's go!"