“Is it him?” the deep voice rasped.

“No.”

“You forget I am in your mind, Catania. I know when you’re lying.”

“It isn’t!” Catania enforced, trying without success to hide her weakness.

“He looks like you though, don’t you think?”

Catania shook her head helplessly, desperation seeping from her pores like the tears from her eyes. She leaned on the white dresser beneath the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her hair wasn’t Princess-like anymore, it was as messy as when she’d been held captive in Melzor. Her skin was dry and flaky, and it itched as terribly as her muscles ached. And her eyes were no longer their usual colour, but a fiery crimson instead.

“Don’t you like the way you look?” the voice provoked.

Catania lifted a marble ornament off the dresser and smashed the mirror into a thousand glittering pieces. Immediately, blood as red as her eyes began to run down her arms. “I just want you to leave me alone!” she cried.

“But we made an agreement,” the voice reasoned. “You cannot go back on your word.”

“But I can’t keep doing this,” Catania argued. “It’s betrayal.”

“Betrayal?” the voice repeated fiercely. “Betrayal was when you left Melzor. Betrayal was when you built an army to oppose mine. Betrayal was when you killed hundreds of my men in an attempt to dethrone me!”

Catania clutched her head as the intensity of the voice rose inside her skull.

“The boy is a Rider too, is he not?”

“No,” she denied.

“Do not lie to me!” the voice thundered, its power enough to make her bones tremor.

“Okay, he is,” Catania conceded.

“And does he know he’s your son?”

“You’ve watched him through my eyes. You can see he doesn’t know.”

The voice remained silent for a few seconds, as if in thought. Then it spoke on, “I want you to tell him.”

Catania sobbed. “Why would you want me to do that?”

“Because he will be desperate to get to know you,” the voice explained. “And when he spends time with you, I will begin to understand him.”

“Understand him for what purpose?”

“He’s my grandchild, Catania. Must I have a reason?”

“You do nothing unless its for your own gain.”

The voice cackled evilly. “Maybe I would like to build his trust so he can help me to rule this land. Perhaps he would be more willing than you were.”

“I doubt that,” Catania argued.

“Then I would force him to assist me,” the voice said nonchalantly. “Do you know what his power is?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I sense you’re lying to me again.”

“I just told you I don’t know.”

“WHAT IS HIS POWER?” The voice came so loud and harsh Catania felt like her head might explode, and she threw her hands up to cover her ears.

“He can copy the powers of other Riders,” she yielded.

“He can what?”

“You heard me,” Catania said tersely.

“Oh, my, my, my!” the voice said, unable to suppress its obvious glee. “Catania, why did you keep this a secret from me?”

Catania's stomach churned inside her, and a sickness suddenly rose to her throat.

“My grandson is a Vassath Rider,” the voice summarised excitedly. “This changes everything!”

“It changes nothing because he still won’t join you,” Catania denied.

“Oh, you misunderstand me, my daughter. I can’t let him join me if he’s a Vassath Rider, he would be far too strong. I must have his power for myself!”

“No, you can’t kill him!” Catania pleaded.

“Of course I can. I’ve killed family for a power once before, Catania. I’m more than capable of doing it again.”

“But he’s my son!”

“And that is desperately unfortunate,” the voice claimed. “But it is an unforgiving world, and I cannot pass up an opportunity like this.”

*

Oracus bolted upright and wrestled with the sheets of his bed. When his feet swung down to the floor, he breathed deeply and wiped away the cold sweat that had gathered on his forehead.

“Bandor, wake up,” he said sharply. “I’ve just had another dream about Catania.”

Bandor stirred and lifted his head. “What happened?”

Oracus worriedly recited the conversation he’d heard in the dream. Then he sat in silence, before eventually adding, “But there’s no way I can be Catania’s son.”

“How can you be sure you aren’t?” Bandor contended.

“Because I lived in a little village that nobody outside Thessley knew of, and so did my father. How would he have met the Princess of Tallarin?”

“I don’t know,” Bandor answered. “But can you prove he didn't?”

Oracus considered his Lavorian’s argument and quickly realised he couldn’t. “Okay, so what if I am Catania's son?” he asked. “What happens then?”

“Other than you being the next in line to lead Tallarin, you mean?” Bandor said. “Well, you now know who your mother is…”

The words hit Oracus like a hammer to the chest. He stood up, and then started pacing the room.

“Are you alright?” Bandor asked him.

“I just need to think for a moment,” he said.

“Could you perhaps ask her if it’s true?” Bandor proposed.

“Not if she’s being manipulated by Jowra. I don’t think it would be wise for him to find out I know.”

“So you intend to keep it a secret?”

“I don’t have any other choice. We either keep it to ourselves, or we get Catania killed.” Oracus put his face in his hands and hoped for a brilliant solution to present itself. But the only thought he had was one that troubled him further. “If she is my mother then it makes me the grandchild of the evillest man in Pharia.”

“That doesn't make you evil too, Oracus,” Bandor dismissed.

Oracus recalled his conversation with Shio about how he and Jowra were the only two Vassath Riders in Pharia. But that wasn’t all that connected them; it seemed they shared the same blood too.

“We’re in a difficult position now,” Oracus stated. “We can’t speak about it, but if we don’t then Jowra will continue to control Catania. What do we do?”

“Kivali is your only option,” Bandor said. “You need to tell her and trust she’ll know what to do.”

“You think it’s a good idea to share these dreams, even with her?” Oracus asked uncertainly.

“This is bigger than the judgement you’ll receive for having a few strange dreams, Oracus,” Bandor said. “The integrity of Tallarin is breached, and I don’t think we’re entitled to withhold what we know. We need to tell her right away.”

Dawn had barely arrived when Oracus and Bandor walked together through the dark, empty corridors of the palace. Fortunately, it appeared Sashtrams worked throughout the night, and one particularly fat Sashtram was willing to direct Oracus to the room where Kivali slept.

When Oracus knocked on her door, it took a minute for her to answer, and when she did, her dark hair was all over her face.

“This is far too early,” she said sleepily.

“Any chance I can come in?” Oracus replied. “It’s quite important.”

Kivali stepped aside and let Oracus and Bandor inside. In the corner of the room, Onca lifted her head off her paws to watch them. When Oracus sat down on the bed, Kivali sat down beside him, and he began to tell her about the dreams.

“Quite important?” Kivali said as he finished. By now, she was wide awake and Onca was also out the corner she’d been sleeping in. “This is very, very serious!”

“It was actually these dreams that made me want to travel here with you from Afarra,” Oracus admitted. “I knew I couldn’t ignore them.”

“You should have told me straight away.”

“But I hardly knew you, and I didn’t know what they meant,” Oracus tried to justify. “Until I got here and discovered the real Catania looks exactly like the one in my dreams, I had no reason to say anything. You’d have thought I was crazy.”

Kivali ran her fingers through her hair. “We need to talk to the triplets,” she said. “They’ll know what to do.”

“But they’re Catania’s advisers,” Oracus argued.

“And they’ll do what is best for Tallarin,” Kivali stated. “They’re reliable and smart. That’s why they’re Catania’s advisers.”

“But Catania’s life is at risk here,” Oracus said.

“Farlog is far wiser than anybody else I know,” Kivali forced. “I’d trust him with my life, and you should trust him with Catania’s.”

Oracus nodded. “When shall we speak to them then?”

“Now,” Kivali insisted. “While everyone’s still in bed. We don’t want anyone knowing we’re holding secret meetings.”

Bandor and Onca stayed behind while Oracus and Kivali went off the see the triplets in Croij’s laboratory. Before long, Oracus was recounting his dreams again, while the three men listened quietly and each looked down their crooked nose at him.

It was difficult for Oracus to concentrate on his stories in the laboratory. All around him, different liquids in glass vials bubbled and smoked, while mysterious objects made strange noises. At one point, a Sashtram waddled past complaining about how a three handled sword was ‘stupid’, and another lost both eyebrows when something it was testing exploded.

“Forgive me for appearing rude, but your tale is very hard to believe,” Croij said when Oracus finished speaking. “I’ve never heard of anyone who can do what you claim to do.”

Oracus turned to Kivali. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“On the contrary, it would have been a mistake not to discuss this with us,” Farlog said. “I agree it appears farfetched, but I can’t say I’d have wanted this information to go unheard.”

“You believe me?” Oracus said with surprise.

“May I ask you a question before I pass judgement?”

Oracus shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Have you ever had a dream like this that wasn’t of either Catania or Jowra?”

Oracus looked seriously at Farlog. “When we were in Lalacia, I read some text in a book about a man called King Xarmoud. I then had a dream about him too.”

“King Xarmoud?” Shio said. “The King who sacrificed himself to end the Noble War?”

“Oracus is Visioning,” Farlog explained as he rubbed his chin in thought. “His dreams are not just simple dreams.”

“What is Visioning?” Kivali asked.

“It’s a power that allows someone to see events that happened in the past, and to sometimes see what’s happening in the present.”

“A power?” Croij followed up. “But Oracus already has a power.”

“A power to copy the powers of others,” Shio reminded. “Is there another Rider here in Tallarin who Oracus is copying?”

“I don’t think this power has anything to do with being a Rider,” Farlog said. “I believe it is something only Oracus can do. And I suspect he could do it before he even became a Rider.”

“I wasn’t a Rider when I dreamt of Catania being chased through the forest by Jowra’s soldiers,” Oracus confirmed.

Croij looked blankly at Oracus, and then turned back to Farlog. “But that’s impossible,” he disputed. “There’s never been a power seen in anyone but a Rider.”

“What about the Hazinals?” Farlog claimed. “Would you not say they have powers?”

“The Hazinals are a myth!”

“Do you have any proof?”

“It’s common knowledge, I don’t need proof.”

Despite having his every point contended, Farlog offered a smile. “I do have a theory on all this. But until I’ve done some research, I cannot speak with any real accuracy.”

“But you believe me?” Oracus said.

“This would be a very extravagant and well-constructed lie if it were one,” Farlog said. “And you don’t strike me as the duplicitous sort.”

“So the threat to Tallarin is real?” Shio questioned concernedly.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Farlog said.

“Then what do we do?”

“Firstly, we must keep what we have discussed a secret. We cannot let Catania find out, should it cause us a more substantial problem,” Farlog insisted. “Secondly, we must hope Jowra allows us time to prepare our weapon.”

“Our weapon?” Oracus questioned.

“You!” Farlog stated. “It is you, Oracus, who can compete with him. Not only do you have the power of a Vassath Rider, but you have the power to spy on his plans too. You are the key to this war. You are our glimmer of hope.”

“But I thought you’d all hate me for claiming I’m his grandson,” Oracus contested.

“We are still wary of you,” Croij said.

Farlog shook his head seriously. “No. You may be his grandson, which could be seen as a reason to distrust you. But you can also be his downfall, and that is far more important.”