[/html]All his suspicions confirmed, the shadowy stranger could have simply thanked her, bidded her good evening, and disappeared back into the night from whence he had come. It seemed almost absurd that a year's journey should accumulate in such a brief and empty conversation, but all he had ever dared to hope for was some sort of confirmation, and that he had gotten. Rachias had disappeared, and he did not need to ask to know that Kaena had no idea where she had gone. His daughters had not managed to find their way here on their own either, it seemed, and Kharma could only hope that they had gone home instead. He could be back in Thornloe in another month or two. He could leave this place behind for the last time.
He stood silent a moment and closed his eyes, thinking a thousand things. "Thank you" sat at the tip of his tongue, along with "good night" and "goodbye." He was a time traveler, and it was time to go. But in his soft, tentative voice, what he said was, "How is Gabriel?" followed by, "How are you?"
Kharma Asylum, or Arkham Lykoi, was better than his brothers. He was not mad or violent or prejudice. He would not be bitter. He would not be angry. He did not know his mother's story. He did not particularly want to. Maybe it was entirely her fault. Maybe it wasn't. But she was old and he was tired, and perhaps they owed each other this much.
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