Lately, Erian had grown increasingly vigilant.
Every evening, after the household lamps were extinguished and silence settled over the courtyard, he would sit beneath the old pear tree for hours without moving. Sometimes, in the dead of night, he would suddenly rise and walk the perimeter walls, inspecting every shadow and corner as though listening for something hidden beyond the darkness.
He had frightened Yvaine more than once this way.
One night, she tugged lightly at Caelith's sleeve and whispered nervously, "Dear sister… does this Erian never sleep?"
Caelith glanced out the window where the young man was.
Beneath the pale orange wash of lamplight, Erian sat beneath the ancient tree, motionless as a carved guardian spirit.
"He sleeps," Caelith replied quietly. "I know he does."
"Then why does he always sit there?"
Caelith did not answer. Because she knew that he was standing watch... Watching over them.
That night, Erian suddenly rose to his feet.
