Zusia, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

Stephanie had never had a family. Having grown up in the Trainee System, the very idea of family was foreign to her, although she understood the general concept. Most people considered family to be a mother, a father, and sisters and brothers. She had found a family in Marcie, and for her it had nearly been enough.

She had almost found a family in Annabella, Todd, Jessie, and Matthew, too.

Terrence was not what Stephanie had imagined the Immortal One's son to look like. He was around Todd's height but had a broader build and muscular physique as if he had been in training his whole life. He didn't have a boyish face, either — he was matured, the firmness of his face proving a life of trials and hardship. A large bruise discoloured the left side of his jaw, a devilish black-blue mark proving he had been mistreated. His eyes were dark and narrowed, eyeing them all with uncertainty as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Terrence, welcome," Motch said, his deep voice echoing through the quiet throne room. "Let me introduce you to your sister and future wife."

Stephanie glanced at Annabella at those words. The older girl stared at the Prince in shock and confusion, her mouth open as if she wanted to argue or contradict the king's words. Looking back at Terrence, Stephanie felt nothing. She didn't know how to react, or if she even should feel anything at all. Any emotion had been sucked out of her at the revelation of her heritage, and now standing face to face with the brother she had never known...

No one spoke. Terrence looked between Stephanie and Annabella, working his jaw, his hand in fists in front of him. He turned to Motch, his gaze fiery. "You speak about my future as if you would let me have one."

Motch chortled. "I let you live, didn't I? I could have killed you in the pit I found you in, yet I didn't."

"Instead you parade me around like some circus animal," the young man accused, lifting his chained hands a bit. "Your only intention is to murder me. That's been your life's goal ever since my Father stole me from your fire."

"Arrangements could be made. Bargains offered."

"Bargains cannot be made with evil."

"Evil?" Motch reared back, the word an incredulous roar on his tongue. Stephanie turned around to face him, watching the dragon stomp a foot and smash his tail against one of the pillars. It shuddered but held firm. "Your accusations are fired from a blind point of view. Where have you been, Prince Terrence? Tell me your life story. Tell me how you've been living in ignorance of your people's sufferings — the sufferings only you perceive." Motch bared his teeth again, but it was not a smile. "Desmond thrives beneath my rule. Her people bow in homage to my name."

"They bow in terror."

"They bow in loyalty! I have given them the world, and you think you can take that from them because you consider yourself more suited for this throne?"

"You are blind!" Annabella threw her shock to the side and turned on Motch with a fire in her eyes. "The people of Desmond are in agony! They suffer because of you! They are terrified and you call that loyalty?"

Motch's throat began to glow, a sure sign that he was getting riled up. "You know nothing of suffering!" Stephanie found herself backing away from the beast as he lifted his head. "The agony you think you see is shared only by those who hold tight to the tyrant who sat on the throne before me. They bring death on themselves by clinging to His worthless name!"

"Do not speak of Him that way!" Terrence yelled.

"You will see, children, how much the people of Desmond despise your god and Father. You will see as they condemn you as criminals and fugitives, worthy of death for the crimes you have committed. You will die as those before you, and you will be forgotten. Your very names will become a curse to speak!"

"Enough of this!" Stephanie yelled before she even realized the eruption was coming. She felt the grief and passion deep within her, boiling with the anger that had blossomed in her chest. She didn't look at Annabella, didn't want to look at Annabella. She had lied. Stephanie had trusted her, and Annabella hadn't told her the truth — the truth that Stephanie had every right to have known! She hadn't even begun to think about the reality of her bloodline, of what it could mean for her and her future. She only saw the betrayal, the hurt, the pain. Motch was right about one thing: Annabella was not truthful.

Todd hadn't been either, and the knowledge of it was like a knife in Stephanie's back. Out of everyone, she had trusted Todd first.

She wondered if Matthew had known as well.

"All of you, stop it!" she continued, her voice harsher than she had heard it in a long time. "Please, just stop!"

Terrence and Annabella fell silent, but Motch hummed, a deep growl in his chest that sounded like true sympathy. "You understand," he murmured, looking down at Stephanie with an authority she knew she couldn't counter. "You see the truth, now, finally, and it tears you apart. You ran away from the only home you knew just days before you would have known the truth, and now, in light of it, you've seen your mistakes." Motch paused, as if admiring her somehow. "It's not too late, Princess."

"Leave her alone!" Annabella exclaimed.

Stephanie looked at Annabella, numb, as if she had been out in the cold too long and her emotions had all but left. The outburst was over, and she was exhausted, the weight on her shoulder heavier than she'd ever felt it. Not even the glistening of Annabella's eyes was enough to encourage faith or hope in her. She felt used, used by everyone, and right now, nothing anyone said was going to make her feel better.

Slowly, she turned her back on Motch, looking past Annabella and Terrence to Yasmin, who still stood at the door, his arms folded across his chest. He was watching her. She saw that sorrow in his eyes, the same sorrow his face had possessed the last time she had seen him. He was sorry for her.

He was the only one she believed in that case. "I'm done here," she said, unsure if such authority belonged to her in this setting, in any setting, but she walked away from the king. Silently, she offered her wrists to Yasmin. Take me away. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Yasmin hesitated, looking at Motch in uncertainty.

After a moment, the king nodded his huge head. "Lock them in the dungeon for the night. Do the same for the others when they arrive. We will continue this in the morning."

His declaration should have stoked fear in her heart, but Stephanie could only feel relieved. Yasmin didn't cuff her; instead, he took her by the arm as he opened the door and nodded to the guards who stood outside. As the guards advanced to grab Annabella and Terrence, Yasmin directed Stephanie out of the room, leading her across the entrance hall and down into the dungeon. The steps down were long and winding, and she found herself stumbling down them, her feet uncertain of how and where to place themselves. She slipped on a stair and nearly fell, but Yasmin managed to catch her and hold her up. She was trembling all over by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs. The dungeon was dark, with long hallways and doors leading into small, cramped cells — she remembered being on dungeon cleanup years back. It had been a part of their fifth-year training, possibly something of a scare tactic to keep them on the straight and narrow. She never thought she'd be one of the occupants.

Yasmin stopped at one of the cell doors, accepting a ring of keys from the jailer and inserting one of the keys into the lock. Stephanie watched him dully, knowing she could run but having no will to. She'd never escape. She didn't know what she was trying to escape anymore.

Annabella was herded past her, and she avoided the girl's gaze, her heart twisting a bit in her chest. As the guards pushed Terrence past, though, he said her name, coaxing her gaze to rise.

Well, it hadn't really been her name. Not to her. It was a foreign name — the only name he knew her by.

"Saryn." Her supposed brother's face was firm, but his eyes were worried. Did he think she was on the brink? She saw it on his face. He stilled his captors for a moment, long enough to speak. "Remember who the enemy is."

Stephanie stared right back, her reply as cold as she felt: "I don't even know you."

Before he could respond with the surprise his face showed, the guards pushed him past and Yasmin pulled Stephanie inside her cell. It was just like she remembered the cells being: cold, small, concrete walls on all sides. She stood in the middle of it, wondering if the walls really were closing in on her like they seemed to be.

Yasmin stood in the doorway, watching her. He almost seemed hesitant to leave. He cleared his throat, sounding a bit uncomfortable. She turned around to face him.

"You'll be alright, soldier," he murmured, looking down at her with those solemn eyes. He was softer now, as she has always known him to be. It was then that she realized that he had been a part of her family. The family she had lost to her own choices.

"Yasmin," she whispered, slowing him as he turned to go. He looked at her, questioning. She swallowed hard. "Who is my enemy?"

It was such a vague question, she knew, but his answer was not what she had expected it to be: "You are."

He left, closing the door behind him, and Stephanie stumbled to the wall and collapsed against it. Sliding to the floor, she gave in to the sudden wave of emotion that swept over her. Anger. Confusion. Grief. She wallowed in it, questioning herself, questioning others, wondering what might have happened had she stayed in Zusia and not attempted to avenge Marcie. What would have happened if she had carried on with her squad and fought Todd and Annabella instead of with them? She never would have known them personally, never would have met Matthew, never would have been here, right now, sitting in grief on the floor of a dungeon cell.

She could only wonder if Matthew had lied to her as well.