I’m having a nervous breakdown. I can’t stand to see Carrie in such a state.

“No, Darsal, don’t do that. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” Zak says, pleadingly.

Carrie doesn't reply. General Sanderson grins at his accomplishment.

“Now that love and affection ties here you, you must now follow Zak to go visit the beloved place I have heard so much about.”

My fear boils up in me, but I can’t do anything about her. General Sanderson has anchored me by my Before. He’s done the cruellest thing a person can. My chest feels like it’s being compressed into a bottle of suffering and despair. He knows I will do anything to keep her alive, even if it means dying.

Tears stream down my face. How can this be the same little sister I practically raised? Blood drips off her chin onto her white Guardian dress. Her sleeve is torn and red stains her dress. They tied her hands behind her back, and I can see the ropes cutting into her wrists. I fight violently against the men holding me, yelling for Carrie. Someone falls unconscious beside me. I kick and scream as they drag me out of the building. A trail of blood follows me.

“Carrie!” I cry, voice tearing itself from my throat, “Carrie!”

And the doors slam shut behind me, blocking me from the only person I’ve ever really loved.

They force me to walk. Zak has no choice but to follow behind because of the handcuffs, dragging his feet, head down. I am pushed into the training tent to arm ourselves before we go to the creek. The guards chain our wrists together again before stationing themselves outside in front of the tent door. Zak refuses to look at me as if his shoes are much more interesting. Finally, he says shakily:

“Darsal, it wasn’t me. I swear it wasn’t me. I don’t know how or… Please,”

“You betrayed me once. What’s stopping you from doing it again? The worst thing is, I believed it. I believed in your stupid game. I thought you were my friend, only for you to turn me in and then sentence Carrie to death,” I say, tears streaming down my face.

I struggle against the chains holding me to him. I loathe Zak with my entire being.

“Darsal, I,” he says, but I interrupt him with:

“Πήγαινε στα κοράκια, προδότης,” I growl. Go to the crows, traitor.

Zak gapes at me, jaw ajar. How did he understand? Now I’m confused. How does Zak, a born Scriptio know ancient Greek?

“I didn’t! We had a deal and I wouldn’t—” he says, but I interrupt him again.

“Then explain to me this: The Guardians would keep their trap shut no matter what. The only other way he could find out would be to go down to bloody Hades and ask my mother. Unless, of course, you let your trap open,” I say, shoving him towards the wall.

I pin him against a shelf, my hatred boiling up inside of me.

Zak’s face grows bright red. He clenches his jaw.

“Okay, Darsal, I get it! I understand that I’m the likeliest option, but I swear it wasn’t me! It could have been someone listening to our conversation. I wouldn’t rat you out. I get it. I betrayed you once, but it wasn’t me this time. Before is something no one should ever twist. I would never, to save my life,” he implores.

I don’t know anymore, but there is only one place where I know I might concoct a plan to get Carrie out of the compound. I grab throw knives and slide them into the thigh sheaths. Zak takes a step back, fearfully, but I put them away without a second thought. I turn and look at him for a long moment.

“Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that he would just send me away with a second thought? I mean, what’s keeping you from running away too?”

Zak promptly turns around, twisting the handcuffs. He grabs a sword, scrutinizing it. But I saw the look on his face. He doesn't look at me.

“I’m not the only one being held back with something, am I?” I whisper, anger melting away.

He walks towards the door, pulling me by the handcuffs.

It isn’t long before we reach the stream. The water bubbles contently. I haven’t been here in a month, but nothing has changed. I sit down at the foot of the willow, its shade draped over me like a blanket.

There is a square where it's only sliced off. It wasn’t there before my mom left. When I first ran away, this was the first place I came to. It was the same piece of bark recently sliced off, with a poem carved in it.

Somehow I know they meant it for me. I sometimes like to imagine her coming here and carving me a message before leaving. Something she wishes she could have told me before. It somehow seems like a secret message; something she shouldn’t have told me, but I’ll never know. I’ll never get the chance to ask her if it was even her who carved it, or if it’s meant for me.

Ever since my mother left, I always seem to end up here. Carved into the bare wood is the poem no one has ever deciphered it — until now.

War is inevitable,

its hold like a strangle,

but ending it

will only take 102,

but I’m counting on you,

to find what is true,

but only Before,

can open that door,

to end the war,

and the threat,

you’ll need, and yet,

Dan Everett.

I’m certain there isn’t a Guardian named Dan Everett, but the name rings a bell somewhere in the back of my memory. A faint bell, but something tells me it’s important. Dan Everett, Dan Everett. And then it clicks.

You know when you’ve been looking at something for such a long time, but then, when you come back to it, it all makes sense? It’s like you see the little brownish lines are the whiskers and the ears are ears and you know you’ve been looking at a cat the entire time. It’s kind of like that, but it has nothing to do with felines. Zak looks puzzled at the words, but I finally get it.

“Dan Everett!” I cry.

Zak jumps back, pulling me by the handcuffs with him.

“Jeez, Darsal. I’m right here. You don’t have to yell,” Zak says.

I get it now. Everything falls into place. I know what I’m looking at.

“Zak, you wanted to prove that you didn’t turn Carrie in. Well, here’s your chance. Please,” I take a deep, shaky breath, “I just need to write a letter. You can even read it. I just need to send a letter.”

He pauses. He seems to want to let me send the letter. We both know it could cost our lives...and Carrie's.

“Let me read it,” he intones.

I pull out a pencil and a piece of paper, Zak peering over my shoulder. I know exactly what to write. I know what I have to do to save Carrie. But something is nagging at me. Zak’s expression when I tell him it’s going to Sam is almost as if he knows him. As if Sam and he had once been friends. I push the thought aside and put pencil to paper.