Forlattena Prison, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

Annabella was glad she was at the back of the group — her shock was easier to hide that way. It was heavy, turning her mind to sludge as she struggled to understand how this could be possible. This boy had just introduced himself as her brother, and yet it had only ever been her and Alexander.

She had another brother. A little brother. Probably born in this prison, never seeing the world outside. The scars on his face were a sign, a punishment, and her gut twisted at what that could have meant.

"We don't intend to stay permanently," Todd told Anthony.

"You might not have a choice." The boy's words left a cloud of unease. He turned to Stephanie. "And you are?"

"My companions," Todd said quickly. "This is Stephanie, and Jessie and Matthew, and..." He hesitated, looking at Annabella.

For just a moment, she briefly considered changing her name and pretending to be someone else — the others would honour that, wouldn't they? No, Stephanie definitely wouldn't.

"Annabella," she said. Stephanie and Jessie moved to reveal her fully to this foreign boy, and she wasn't sure she appreciated their effort. However, she wasn't about to duck behind Matthew. She stood still, watching the boy's expression for any hint to his thoughts.

He stared at her for a long moment, uncertainty in his eyes. His hand visibly tightened around the crossbow.

Annabella knew he hadn't put the pieces together — or maybe he was refusing to believe it. "Annabella LaKline," she said slowly.

"You expect me to believe that?" the boy asked immediately, proving her assumption correct. He had recognized her name. "My sister and brother are both dead."

"Annabella didn't die," Stephanie interjected.

Anthony stared. There was a war in his eyes. He sized Annabella up, and she did the same to him. He couldn't possibly be more than thirteen years old and was still a bit shorter than her, but he was incredibly bold. His hand still gripped his crossbow tightly, but he didn't make any move to use it.

Finally, he let out a pent up breath. "I guess there's only one way to know the truth." He stepped back, looking away from her and turning to the forest. "Follow me. I'll bring you to my parents. They'll know."

Annabella didn't move to follow Anthony. Her limbs didn't want to work. She had dreamed about seeing her parents again when she was little, before Alexander had died and before she had hardened her heart to the idea. She was faced with it now, faced with the reality that her parents were nearby and that they were going to go see them.

She didn't want to see them. She wasn't sure she could bear it.

Stephanie was the first to follow Anthony, and Annabella felt Matthew's gaze on her as he passed her to join Stephanie. Todd, however, hesitated. Jessie stopped beside Annabella, and they both looked at her.

"It'll be alright," Jessie murmured.

Todd gave a slight nod in agreement. Silently, he held out his hand to her. Did he expect her to take it? She didn't know what she was going to do. The boy who was her brother was disappearing into the trees, Stephanie and Matthew on his heels, leaving them behind.

Annabella stiffly accepted Todd's hand, letting him lead her forward. She didn't want to do this. She had originally brought Stephanie along so that she wouldn't have to face her parents. Now here she was, about to come face to face with the two people who had broken her heart in more ways than they'd ever know.

She struggled to feel something, to draw herself out of the dream-like fog she found herself entrapped in as they followed Anthony through the trees. The forest itself was shaded even more, dark and eerie, contributing to Annabella's distanced demeanour. Her heart pounded. The world blurred a bit as she found herself becoming lightheaded and nauseous. The ground was swaying. Todd's hand held hers firmly, as if he had sensed her impulse to bolt and was prepared to stop her. She wanted to, but her feet wouldn't obey her.

They came up to a cabin tucked amid the trees. Annabella hardly noticed it. Out in front, a man was chopping up chunks of wood. He wore a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up despite the chill in the air. He was familiar, like the scent of burning oak-wood and the touch of silk, untouchable and distant memories she had always attributed to her royal childhood. She saw Alexander, with his red-brown curls and face hardened by years of trials — but it wasn't Alexander.

Alexander had never reached adulthood.

"Papa," Anthony called, raising the man's head. "We have visitors."

The man lowered his axe, gazing at them all with confusion and mistrust. The moment his eyes landed on Annabella, though, his face lost some of its colour. She stared at him, gripping Todd's hand so tightly she knew she was hurting him. She barely thought of it. Trapped in the gaze of the man who had betrayed both their Creator and Motch, who bore the title of her father, the man who had given her life and then lost her to a separation as cruel as death... Annabella didn't breathe. He knew who she was, it was obvious, and he seemed to be as shocked as she had been to discover Anthony's existence.

The cabin door opened, and a woman stepped out. It was easy to see and understand now why Anthony and their father had recognized Annabella so easily: Annabella was the spitting image of her mother.

"What is happening, Anthony?" Adrianna LaKline asked as she approached them. She spotted Annabella, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh!"

Annabella couldn't breathe. She hadn't wanted this, she hadn't ever wanted to see these people again. They had betrayed the Creator. They had hurt thousands of people — their own people. And then they had regretted it and given up Annabella and Alexander in the all-powerful name of the Creator, becoming martyrs for turning on Motch. It had been done much too late.

Annabella wrenched her hand free of Todd's grip and turned to run, to get away from these people as fast as she could. Todd was faster than she expected, catching her with his arm and pulling her back with a force that was unlike him. She stumbled into his chest, enveloped immediately in his strong embrace. She hadn't realized she was trembling until then.

"Don't run," he said in her ear. "It won't fix anything."

She hated her weaknesses. She hated being coddled, she hated exposing her emotions — but his embrace was comforting. It brought her years back; whenever she had been upset or scared, Alexander had held her just like this. Tight, firm, unrelenting. Hardly saying a word, he had held her, his arms around her the strongest protection she had ever known. The day he had been torn out of her life came back afresh, along with all that pain and fury and helplessness. She hadn't been able to stop Motch from killing her brother. She hadn't been able to stop her family's destruction. She hadn't been able to stop any of this.

Annabella finally understood at that moment that she didn't hate her parents. Not truly. She had lost them, buried them, finally succeeded in putting them out of her heart because, in her mind, they had already died. Yet, here they were again, alive. Alive, and ever so susceptible to death again. And now she had another brother to lose as well.

Annabella crumbled, her legs giving out as she nearly slipped right out of Todd's grasp. He fought to keep her on her feet, gasping quietly as she dissolved into tears. She hadn't meant to, truly — she was supposed to be the strongest of them all, heartless and emotionless because, if she let herself feel, it would ruin her. She had lost Alexander and Tamara and Benjamin and Luke and now she was going to lose her family as well. It was inevitable. Where she went, death followed. The weight of it all threatened to destroy her.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, sinking to the ground out of Todd's arms. Her companions were stricken by her actions, she knew, but through her blur of tears, she could only see her parents, yards away, a picture of her past and a foretelling of a grief-stricken future.

For they would die, as everyone did, leaving Annabella behind to grieve their losses again. Annabella knew she would not survive it this time.

The queen was the first to respond. "Oh, Annabella."

In seconds, Annabella was wrapped in her mother's embrace. She did not fight it. It was like being in a dream. The scent of ginger and citrus engulfed her, laced within the thousands of memories she had buried and left behind. They came back now, filling her with both hope and dread. And she knew:

It had been much easier to hate them than to allow herself the risk of loving — and losing — them again.