Some days my willing suspension of disbelief hits a wall. Sorry. But not really. This story starts out with actual dialogue from the end of Path of Radiance... but then logic invades.

“You do remember me!” Ena gasped, cradling her mate in her arms.
“Ena...” Rajaion whispered. “You were made... to suffer... because of me. I'm sorry.”
“Rajaion, Rajaion!” she sobbed. She clung to him, pulling him ever closer, as if she could hold on forever, if she only had the strength. “Oh, Rajaion....”
“Let's go... back to Goldoa. Just the two of us... together.”
That was all Ena had wanted in the first place. No fighting, no scheming, no following wicked orders. Just Rajaion. Nothing else mattered as she gazed into those gentle eyes. “I will go anywhere, my love, as long as it is with you,” she said softly.
“Ena...” he said again. “From this moment on... forever...” he coughed. And then he understood.
He was dying.
He tried to speak again, but no sound came out. Ena read the words as they were formed: “Come here.”
“Ah...” she whispered, trembling. “Rajaion...” She leaned down and pressed her lips desperately against his. Her fingers dug into his tattered shirt, her tears fell and trickled down his cheeks. He gently put his arms around her and tried, weakly, to pull her even closer, not knowing, not caring, that so many were watching their farewell kiss.
“For goodness' sake, I've got melodrama coming out of my ears,” someone grunted. Ena heard footsteps coming toward them.
“Don't be so insensitive, Soren! He's dying,” said Mist.
“Not for long.”
At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then... Rajaion took a deep breath, and tightened his grip. Slowly, he sat up, and, still leaning against his beloved, looked at the boy with the Mend staff.
“Thank you... Soren,” he said, smiling. Never before had they met, but he knew his nephew right away.
He had his grandfather written all over him.