Asher looks past me, his eyes faraway. "I remember the last battle, where the High Fae fell," he says softly. "We found a woman, dying amongst the corpses, and in her arms, a babe. She had given birth in the midst of battle, to a child born of war. But the babe was weak and near death. It made no sound. It barely breathed. And our mother, our mother took pity on the child. She gave it her blood and turned it into one of the Fallen. She said she would raise it as her own. And then the babe began to cry, and his Fae mother smiled, and passed from this world. Something left her body then. A Spirit on the wind. A white wolf. It licked the boy and vanished. Years later, when you found the wolf pup, I knew what it truly was. I knew the Spirit had taken form. And I knew you were its Keeper. You were the Earth Druid."

His eyes grow dark. His voice is soft. "So you see, brother, you were never one of us. You were always one of them."