When Martin and Elizabeth arrived at the greenhouse, they found it an utter mess.

Shattered glass was everywhere. Plants were overturned. Flowerbeds were scattered and torn apart. There was no blood, thankfully.

Martin started forward, but Elizabeth grabbed his shoulder. “Hold on. There might be clues, we should not damage the scene.” Seeing Nicole and Jim’s approach she yelled. “You heard?”

“The whole castle did,” snarked Nicole, though, she looked rather concerned.

“Great. Don’t let anybody in or out unless they’re the Countess, or Igraine! And search the area! They can’t have gone far!” Elizabeth ordered.

“But… where’s Frances?” Martin muttered.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth and hitching up her dress, gingerly stepped into the area and bent down. “Well, there was a fight here. I… I can’t tell how many people.”

“Elizabeth, let me.” Silently, Igraine slipped by Nicole and Jim and dropped beside Elizabeth. The pair began to examine the tracks. The baroness led Elizabeth around, pointing to signs and making her student recall them. Martin watched anxiously and did his best with Nicole and Jim to keep people from entering the greenhouse.

By the time the pair had done a circuit of the scene, Martin’s mothers had arrived.

Countess Esther was, on her good days, a tall, imposing woman with blonde hair beginning to whiten into platinum. A wooden prosthesis that ended with a metal hook replaced her left arm. A deep scar ran across her left cheek and snaked up to her left ear.

On a bad day, like this one, when her fury twisted her natural smile into a snarl, the imposing woman looked downright terrifying.

“I’ve locked down the castle. How many traitors are we dealing with?” Esther growled.

Igraine didn’t look up. “Three traitors at least. Including Frances, there were three, later four people on the scene. One was immediately thrown into those bushes. The other fought Frances, and somehow knocked her out—Oh no.” Igraine brushed a patch of green aside revealing a purple wand.

Elizabeth swallowed. “That’s Ivy’s Sting.”

“We should let Master Edana know when she arrives,” said Martin’s other mom, Rachel, a dark-skinned brunette. She had a softer, though, still determined voice.

“Master Edana is right here.” Edana brushed aside the protesting Nicole and Jim, rendering them silent with a glare, before stepping in beside Igraine to look at the lonely wand, resting on the ground.

“Edana, I know you’re—”

“You have no idea what I’m feeling right now Igraine. Frances could be dead. She could be kidnapped. Amura and Rathon know what those bastards are doing to her right now and I can’t do anything to help her!” Shutting her eyes, Edana pushed past Igraine and picked up the wand.

Only to straighten and drop it, tears blurring her eyes.

Igraine grabbed the mage’s shoulder, “Edana?”

“I’m fine. It’s just Ivy’s Sting. She’s filled with sorrow, rage... Surprise?” Edana shook her head and reached out to the wand again, curling her fingers around it. She winced as she did so.

Ivy’s Sting wasn’t lashing out at Edana. Rather, the wand was overfilling her with thoughts and images that bombarded the mage as the wand recognized her presence. It was the most the wand had ever opened up to Edana before. Somehow the mage just knew that the only reason it was doing so was that the wand knew that Edana was her master’s mentor.

“Frances… Frances knew who attacked her. She trusted them.”

“But we were all together in the ballroom,” Elizabeth said nervously.

Edana didn’t say anything, but her mind was going back to a certain Alavari prince. Ivy’s Sting seemed to hum as if in agreement. Frowning, the mage put Ivy’s Sting into a pocket in her robes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Elizabeth, Martin, I need to talk to Igraine, Countess Esther, and Rachel in private.”

“We have a shapeshifting trogre that’s an Alavari prince in the castle?” Rachel asked with narrowed eyes.

Edana nodded. “Trolls and ogre have magic and since he’s Thorgoth’s son, he probably inherited some degree of talent. Additionally, that’s what her wand seems to be nudging me towards. He’s also the only person who I think knows Frances enough for her wand to be surprised by and the only person who would hurt her.”

Esther frowned. “Why does your student know an Alavari prince?”

“They keep meeting.” Edana forced herself to take another deep breath. The simmering rage and worry made her want to run. She wanted to knock down walls and strip the castle bare, but she couldn’t and it would not help her beloved student. “I don’t think he’d want to kill her. No, he wouldn’t kill her. They have an… accord of sorts.”

Igraine, pacing in the room, muttered, “Then he probably kidnapped her to use as a hostage. They knew you were coming to Conthwaite Castle. They know your power. He doesn’t want to die, or her to die, and so it makes the most sense that he is keeping her somewhere.”

Esther nodded. “I’ll order a search of the castle—”

“With all respect, Esther, I don’t know if we can trust your staff.” Igraine had a grim look on her face. “Right now, the only people I dare trust are you, Rachel, and those who weren’t caught in the trap at Freeburg.”

“You’re saying my staff—” Esther’s eyes widened. “Oh, Amura and Rathon, you’re saying someone in my staff almost got Martin killed.”

Rachel seemed to lose color from her face and she gripped Esther’s arm tightly. “Edana, Igraine, we’re at your disposal. Just… find the people who did this.”

“I plan on it,” Edana hissed.

Martin slammed open the door to a storage room and stormed through it, moving brooms, buckets and other paraphernalia. He let his lamp illuminate every corner of the small room, before slamming the door shut.

“Not here either,” he hissed. He strode down the hall, Elizabeth beside him.

“Martin, you need to calm down,” she said.

The knight stopped and whirled on Elizabeth. “How? One of my own people. Men or women of Conthwaite helped that blasted Prince Timur kidnap my friend.”

“Prince Timur? What does he have to do with this?”

“Ivy’s Sting told Edana it was someone Frances knew and trusted. Trogres can use magic. What does that tell you?” Martin hissed.

Elizabeth groaned. “Oh, dear.” Suddenly, she pursed her lips and shot him a sideways glance. “She likes him, doesn’t she?”

Martin snorted. “Yes. Though, I don’t think she realizes it yet. I thought he liked her too, but not enough, apparently.”

“Yes, he kidnapped her, but still wants to keep her alive. Remember, if Frances dies, he’s going to die eventually due to magic loss. He just wants to get out safely, especially with Edana here,” Elizabeth pointed out. She blinked. “He wants to get out…”

Martin recognized Elizabeth’s thinking face and gave her his full attention. “Do you have an idea where Frances is, Elizabeth?”

“Maybe. I just know that if I was in Timur’s position, I’d want to get out of here faster than a bat out of hell. And drop Frances off safely. Wherever he is… he’ll be making a move soon.” Elizabeth pursed her lips and closed her eyes. “Martin, how can you make a fast exit from this castle?”

Her wrists and face ached. Her skin felt cold and she shivered. Something soft was stuffed into her mouth, she could feel a cloth tight against her bruised cheek. Her muscles were aching. Frances opened her eyes and found only darkness. She wriggled but found her legs and hands tied together.

No. It couldn’t be. Was she… dead? Back on Earth? Back home? Her parents didn’t tie her up, though. At least, they hadn’t before.

But what if this was something new they were trying? What if they saw that she changed and wanted to punish her. To break her before she escaped? It was all coming back to her. The lonely nights in the walk-in closet. All the time spent with nothing but aching stomach pains, a few books, and her homework. The daily beatings. The words “worthless,” “waste of space,” “freak,” “useless trash” echoing in her ears.

Tears welled up in Frances’s eyes and she couldn’t even use her hands to wipe them. Grunting, she pulled her knees up and wiped her eyes on her silk dress.

She blinked. She was still in her silk dress. Her parents would have ripped such luxurious garments off her. She was also not thin, and hungry. She was always hungry when she was on Earth. And her arms had been fractured on Earth. That was how Edana had discovered she’d been abused after all.

She was still in Durannon.

Relief stemmed her tears until she remembered how she’d been knocked out.

Timur had knocked her out. Despite everything she’d done for him. He… he’d kidnapped her, along with the human traitors.

She needed to escape. First, she tried to scream. But there was nobody to hear her and the gag meant she could barely make a sound. She wrestled with her bonds, but they were too tight. There was no way for her to get anybody’s attention.

Frances shivered, trying to fight back the now resurgent memories of the home she’d escaped. She needed to think about what to do next. Her friends had to have heard her scream. They must be searching the castle for her.

Conthwaite was a huge fortress, though, bigger than Freeburg. Not only were there rooms in the buildings, but there were also rooms underground in the granite foundations. It would take time for them to search them all. The humans and Timur might kill her if they thought her useless.

She blinked back her tears and shook her head. No, Timur couldn’t kill her. She was keeping him alive. If she died, then he’d die too. He’d keep her alive, but for now, she couldn’t do anything. All she could do was try to make herself comfortable and wait. The dark wasn’t something to be afraid of after all.

Indeed, Frances had never been afraid of the dark. She’d long gotten used to it. The closet she spent so much time in didn’t have a light. Her parents had let her take in flashlights to do homework, but that was it. More often than not she’d be whimpering on the blankets that made up her bed, trying to nurse her bruises in the dark.

But now… Tied up. Helpless. Barely able to move, with the darkness closing around her. It felt like Earth again. She knew in her head it wasn’t, but her skin shivered, recoiling with old memories, phantom pains that she could not forget. She shut her eyes, but that just made it worse as she heard her parents screaming at her. Telling her she was useless. A waste of space.

“I’m not. I’m not that,” she thought to herself.

But you are. Without your wand, without your friends, what are you?

“I… you… I matter. I matter to them.” She shook her head. “I’m not listening to you. You don’t exist.”

Talking to yourself again? You crazy freak. Jessica and Leila were right to drive everybody away from you.

Her breath was quickening. She tried to breathe deeply. The voice in her head had been quiet for so long. She thought it was gone, but no, it was just buried deeply.

“I… am… loved. I am cared for. They are coming for me. I matter.”

No, you don’t. Why would Martin, the son of a countess, hang out with you? Aside from your magic, which you can’t use without your Named Wand. Why would pretty, friendly, Elizabeth stay with you? She just sees you as a pity case.

The voice in her head sneered and she could hear it cackle. She wondered, thinking back to how her friends reacted around her. If they really cared, or were just being nice to hide their disgust?

“Edana… loves me. She loves me.” Frances blinked and nodded to herself. She’d smile but the gag blocked her facial muscles. “I know she loves me. I matter to her!”

The voice fell silent.

But only for a moment and the thought returned.

And they are using you to hurt her because she loves you. Her love for you will destroy her. Are you happy because of that?

“No. No! Stop. I…” Frances’s heart was pounding. She tried not to think to breathe, to remind herself of all she’d done. All that the good people around her had done for her. She knew the voice was her own. It was the doubts she’d suppressed, or rationalized away, returning because she was now once again, helpless and alone, in the darkness.

Why are you so weak and pathetic that you always have to go running to her in case of the slightest trouble? Like a mom? Which she isn’t because you don’t deserve a mom like her. You deserve a mom that just hits you because you’re crazy and useless—

“Please, shut up. Please… you’re just—”

I am you. I am the truth that you denied for so long. I am the whisper that haunts you with every deed you do. The sibilant hiss in your ear that asks if people really care about you. You cannot get rid of me. I will keep the people you love away from you because you deserve to be alone.

Frances broke into sobs. Because it—she knew that no matter how happy she might become in the future, she would always feel broken inside. All her happiness and joy, the people that loved her, were distracting her from the fact that she’d been shattered a long time ago.

The love of her mentor, the care of her friends, the approval and recognition from all those that supported her. She… she…

She blinked.

She remembered a voice. No, not a voice, a memory. She was crying, just like this. So very long ago. It was a memory from before she’d even lived a month in Durannon. She had been crying because she hated her useless, broken self. Because she had admitted to herself that she didn’t deserve the abuse and her family just hated her.

Edana had hugged her. Edana had embraced her. When Frances had asked why her mentor had said.

“Because I want to, because you need a hug, and because you are not a waste of space.”

“I’m not?” Frances of so long ago had whispered.

“No, you’re not. You’re a kind, sweet girl, who works hard, who…” Edana’s hug had tightened. “Who deserves love and affection. Like every other child.”

That one memory of pain and anguish, and hope, froze her thoughts.

So what. It’s just Edana who thinks so.

But Edana was right. Frances might not feel like it, but Edana was right. That meant… she did deserve love. She always had. And that meant there were people… people who were willing to care for her.

Like Elizabeth and Martin, who had told her that they wanted to help, even if they didn’t know how because… because they were her friends.

Friends that defended her from her bullies. In Martin’s case, he’d done so three times over. He listened to her, supported her, and never pried. If Martin listened, then Elizabeth comforted her and talked her out of her dark thoughts. Elizabeth had even supported her after she’d beaten up Jessica and Leila.

She remembered now, her friend, with a hesitant hand, touching her shoulder and squeezing it, before saying

“Frances, just because you’ll never be normal, doesn’t mean you can’t become better.”

There were Jim and Nicole. Not so close to her but still reliable and trustworthy. There were those that celebrated her 15th birthday with her. Who gave her gifts because they cared.

And Edana, even after seeing her do such a terrible thing, didn’t get angry, explained everything she was going to do and told her:

“Your only fault was not asking Igraine for advice, Frances. You are only fifteen, Frances. And no matter how old you are, it is not wrong to ask for help when you feel like you need it. You just shouldn’t force people to help you.”

“I deserve help,” Frances murmured to herself. “I deserve to make mistakes and learn from them. I deserve to be cared for. I deserve to be loved. To love… I… I’ve always deserved those things.”

No you don’t.

“Yes, we do!” Frances held that thought, no that truth. Because if it was true that she’d carry some of her trauma and pain with her for the rest of her life, it was also true that she still deserved everything good the world had to offer her. That realization stilled the voice in her head. It gave her hope. With that hope, Frances suddenly felt one of the great burdens on her heart fall away. She was certain the voice, her doubts would return, but they would never whisper these doubts to her any longer.

Taking a deep breath, rather difficult through her gag, Frances blinked back the tears.

She was going to escape and she needed to brace herself. Because she was certain Timur was going to check on her and she was going to have words with him.

Edana had picked a small sitting room in Conthwaite castle to occupy while she waited for news. She did really occupy it as she paced through the room, fingers laced behind her. Her stooped forward posture, courtesy of her twisted spine, and white robes gave her the appearance of a great white bird of prey.

A knock on the door had her spinning around.

“Enter!” she snapped.

Igraine slid in, the door shutting without a sound. The ranger dropped herself onto one of the couches and crossed her legs.

“Edana, sit down already, you are going to tire yourself out at the rate you’re going.”

The mage pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know, but I can’t.”

“I know you love her, Edana, but your worrying is not going to help things.”

“They might kill her. Send her back to her parents. I might never see her again.” Still, Edana forced herself to sit down in her chair. “Oh, why couldn’t I have arrived earlier? I might lose her for real this time and there have already been so many close calls.”

Igraine blinked and leaned forward. “She’s an Otherworlder Edana, she was brought to our world to do dangerous things.”

“She shouldn’t have to do this! She’s not like the others. They have families to go home to, she has nothing but Durannon.”

Edana’s voice had reached an almost shrill pitch, and she’d stood up again, unconsciously. She managed to force herself to take a deep breath and sit down.

“Edana. What the hell is this about? Surely you must have accepted that Frances’s job is dangerous,” Igraine said in a questioning tone. When Edana didn’t respond, the ranger blinked. “I mean… you have right?”

The Head of the White Order groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I thought I did, but… as this war drives on, Frances keeps gets into situations that… that honestly are beginning to terrify me.”

“They’re not that bad—”

“At Kwent, she was ambushed by half a company of goblins! She then embarked on a strike mission into enemy territory with a minuscule team of people that relied almost completely on surprise. And in Freeburg…” Edana groaned. “Well, you know what that was.”

“As some of the Otherworlders said, a ‘clusterfuck.’ I believe we call it a shit parade.” Igraine pointed at Edana with a finger. “But your student survived, and greatly helped us to win.”

“By putting herself into the greatest danger! By putting her life on the line and giving all of herself to the cause! I…” Edana hiccuped and drawing her handkerchief, buried her eyes in it. “I trained her to keep her safe. Instead, I’ve just made her attract danger like moths drawn to a flame. And one day, she might attract someone too powerful for her to beat. I… I might really lose her, Igraine.”

The ranger arched an eyebrow. “You knew that when you took her on as your personal student and told her you loved her. This worry of loss… this isn’t the real reason you’re so disturbed.”

Edana gawked at Igraine. She snarled and looked about to snap something back at her friend, but suddenly shut her mouth.

“I… Igraine don’t you get it? Frances is one of the most important people in my life. She’s my dear student and I love her.”

Igraine didn’t reply. She only studied Edana, looking at her face, her shoulders, the way her body was positioned. In an even voice, she finally replied, “Then why haven’t you adopted her yet?”

Edana suddenly resembled a goldfish gulping deep gulps of water. It would have been hilarious, but the tension in the room made the air heavy to breathe.

“A-adopt?”

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You see Frances as your daughter. You want to adopt her. You are worried of losing her before doing so. Only… you aren’t going to adopt her?” Igraine guessed.

The mage averted her gaze and pinched the bridge of her nose. “She has already one terrible mom. She does not need a second.”

“Excuse me what?” Igraine squawked.

“How can I ever offer to be Frances’s mother when I trained her to become a tool for war? When I need to let her fight this war?” Edana retorted.

“Winning the war is in her interests. In fact, she needs to win it in order to stay in Durannon. She’ll never be safe in Durannon unless Thorgoth dies.”

“Yes, but it’s still a war largely for our benefit. And I trained an emotionally traumatized girl to fight in the front lines of it!”

“Then why did you train her?”

“She asked for it and I thought it would give her the strength she needed to confront the challenges ahead.”

“Isn’t what you did then justified?”

“It’s not as simple as that!”

“It is! You’re overcomplicating things like you always do!” Flinging her hands in the air, Igraine stood up and stalked to the door. “Look, it wouldn’t kill you to ask Frances what she’d like?”

“No, but if she says no. It’d ruin our relationship, and I love what we have now. But if she says yes.” Edana shut her eyes. “I can’t ruin this for her, Igraine. Frances has suffered too much for another mother figure to hurt her.” Elbows on her knees, she looked up at Igraine. “And as you know, I have a terrible record for ruining other relationships with my family, my friends, and the ones I love.”

Igraine’s gaze softened. “I keep telling you that half the blame goes to me, my dear.”

Edana snorted and wiped her tear-filled eyes. “I was a needy bitch.”

“And I should have been there for you. We can argue about that later, but… Edana, you can’t let the past hold you back. Frances is a strong girl, and she loves you so much. She would be overjoyed if you adopted her, and she’d forgive you if you made a mistake. Just… keep that in mind.”

Edana nodded and sniffled, “Thank you, Igraine.”

The ranger smiled, and for a moment, she locked eyes with the mage. The pair wondered what might have been, what could have been shared, and what was forever lost between them. And also, what might be in store for them in the future, that perhaps… just perhaps… they might share together.