Zusia, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

Todd didn't sleep at all that night. The tension was too much, the fears gnawing at him long after the soldier had left him alone in that tiny cell. He didn't know what was going to happen, nor did he want to imagine it. He had condemned his companions to death. The chances of escape were next to impossible. Not even Bartholomew's words of calm assurance were enough to untie the knot of fear in his chest.

What if he never got to go home? He let himself think about Cathy and Mikayla, let himself wonder where they were and what they were doing. He had been gone for weeks. Had Michael's murderer ever been found? Did they think that Todd had been abducted or killed? What if he died here and never got to see them ever again? He remembered, painfully, the way he had brushed aside Cathy's words, telling her to go away instead of letting her know he loved her as well. He had left his sister without a goodbye, and he might not ever get the chance to make that right. He raked his fingers through his hair, letting out quiet breaths as he sat alone, consumed with dark thoughts.

It felt like he had failed everyone.

The guards came for him at the crack of dawn. He knew he looked the worse for wear — he felt it, the weariness in his bones and mugginess of mind as they cuffed his hands in front of him and led him out of his cell. He was met by Annabella — their relief at the sight of each other unharmed was shared. She looked as though her night had been as restless as his, but she maintained a straight posture, a grim kind of determination moulding her face into stone. He adopted a similar stance, bracing himself for whatever might come.

They stopped at the next cell over and pulled Matthew out. The other boy looked weary. Todd watched in numb amusement as the guards had to unlock the three broken cuffs around each of Matthew's forearms before they could chain his wrists with two other cuffs again — didn't they realize the futility of it? Annabella looked surprised, but Matthew only shook his head. Todd somehow found comfort in the fact that Matthew could break free of his chains. It gave him hope for some kind of escape.

They were the only ones led down the hallway and up the winding stairs to the main floor of the palace. Todd wondered what that meant. Where were Andre and Adrianna? Stephanie and Jessie? Still locked in their cells?

And where was Anthony?

They were brought right up to two large double doors, and Todd stared up at them in both fear and resoluteness. He had come this far, he had battled creatures he had never imagined existed, and now he was about to meet the true enemy: Motch himself.

The doors were flung open, and before them stood a ghostly figure dressed in ice-blue, her veil holding the secrets to her emotions. The Veiled Lady brushed the guards aside with a wave of her pale hand, turned gracefully, and started walking down the crimson red carpet leading right toward the throne.

"Come, children," she murmured, a command they all heard clearly.

Todd felt frozen, staring across the huge room to the giant throne. It was nearly the size of a small house, for the king of the dragons — and of Desmond itself — lay contentedly on it, curled up with his huge head on the armrest and his huge tail lying across the stairs leading up to the throne. The creature was huge — though not as big as Todd had once thought him to be. It didn't make the sight of Motch any less threatening or frightening.

"Courage," Annabella whispered before she started forward, following the Veiled Lady as instructed. Todd caught his breath, taking her words to heart and mustering up all the courage he had within him. He and Matthew exchanged firm glances before following her.

The throne room was magnificent; the roof was tall, the walls lined with windows letting in the dawn's early light. Eight pillars, four on each side, lined the path to the throne, and Todd could see an alcove-like balcony encircling the room where spectators could watch the activity below. It was beautiful, reminding him of the old architectural designs he had seen in his history textbooks. The tapestries, the stone walls, the designs on the pillars; looking closer, he saw that there had once been symbols carved into the stone pillars, but someone had created gashes through the art, marring the beauty. His breath caught. Eight pillars... eight symbols. The symbols of the Gifted.

Annabella stopped in line with the last two pillars, and he stood beside her, taking a deep breath. Matthew came up on her other side, tense, watching the Veiled Lady walk the rest of the distance between the pillars and the throne. The Lady came to a halt beside the king's chair and turned around to face them. Her faceless gaze was haunting.

"Well." There was a rumble, words coming from deep within the throat of the dragon before them. Todd reminded himself to hold courage as he found Motch's eyes on him. "At long last, His chosen one. I have heard much about you, boy."

Todd licked his lips, coaxing moisture back into his bone-dry mouth. "I've heard about you too."

Motch exposed his teeth, dozens of arm-length incisors capable of crushing a man whole. The sight was near enough to dull Todd's courage. "It seems well and fair, then, that we should be acquainted. There's just so much to discuss."

Todd was grateful when Annabella spoke. "What more do you need, Motch? You have what you want."

"Do I?" Motch rose to his feet, groaning deep in his throat as he clambered off his throne toward them. Both boys stepped back but Annabella stood daringly still, watching the beast with an undaunted gaze. "Dear, dear Annabella," Motch continued, towering over her. "I won't have what I want until your blood and the blood of your precious Deliverer and fiance drench the stairs of this palace."

Todd was not fond of that image. He looked quickly at Matthew, who only set his jaw, his eyes narrowed.

"Then what is stopping you?" Annabella demanded, her voice like ice and steel. "You found Terrence! Nothing is stopping you from killing us right this blasted minute!"

Alarm jolted through Todd at her words, hitting him like a slap in the face. "Wait, hold on—"

"He found the Immortal One's son, Todd," Annabella said.

Todd stopped. No, that didn't make sense. That was his job, his duty, his destiny — that was the whole reason why he was in Desmond! How could Motch have beaten them to it? "Oh," he whispered.

"Oh, indeed," Motch chortled, wisps of smoke drifting from his nostrils. "Is it such a shock, boy, to realize that all along you have been utterly worthless?"

"Stop it!" Annabella snapped.

"You were entirely unneeded," Motch continued, ignoring Annabella's seething. He circled them, his pounding feet nearly shaking the floor. "You were weak from the start, just a little boy trying to prove to a loathing world how special he was. Well, you aren't special." Motch glowered at Todd, lowering his head to look him right in the eyes. "You will die understanding your worthlessness, I promise you. The god will wipe His hands of your blood, another sin committed and pegged on evil, another expendable life lost to the never-ending battle for justice — no one wins, no one ever wins. He will never learn, will He? Sending children to fight a man's battle. A god's battle."

Motch rose to his full height, stepping over them to return to his throne. Todd stumbled, ducking to avoid the tree-truck of a tail and colliding with Annabella. She caught him, gripping his hands, and he looked at her. The fear, the pain, it was there, alive in his chest, the terrible truth that he didn't belong, that he hadn't been needed. Henry's voice echoed in his mind, loud and clear:

"You're nothing! You're pathetic!"

"He's manipulating you," Annabella warned in a whisper. She looked deep into his eyes, and for the first time, he realized that hers were more than just hazel. They were brown and orange and all different shades of green spiralling outwards from black pupils, intricate and beautiful. Todd knew at that moment that, even if only for her, he wanted to be more. He wanted to be worthy, not worthless. He wanted to be strong, not pathetic, even if it was all he managed to accomplish before he died.

He had to believe that he had been brought to Desmond for more than just this.

Todd set his jaw. Realizing that he was still holding her hands, he slowly dropped them. He turned to Motch and the Veiled Lady with a confidence he never knew he had. "Kill us, then," he challenged, his voice bearing more boldness than it ever had before. "You won't win. You can't, because we'll live on. In stories, in legends, like the rebels before us. One day you will be removed from this throne, whether it's tomorrow or in ten years. Kill me, and the Immortal One will just raise up another Deliverer. You can kill us, but you will not stop us. One day, you will burn in the fires of your hatred."

For a long moment, his words were met with silence. Then the Veiled Lady clapped. It was a slow, ominous clap, echoing through the room like thunder. Todd knew he was being mocked.

"Well spoken, Todd." The way the Veiled Lady said his name was familiar, and it unnerved him — he knew that was the point. "You've grown up so much. I'm so proud of you. Honestly, I am." She looked at Motch as if waiting for his verdict.

Motch bowed his large head. "You ask why I do not seize what I want, Princess. The answer is very clear: I cannot. Your Prince and Princess escaped. Vanished from their cells, carried away in the same manner he was as a child. Your god once again favours them over His devoted, leaving those who call on Him behind to die. Yes, Princess, you will die, you and your Deliverer and your friends. You will die as proof that your god does not care."

He turned to the Veiled Lady and proclaimed the death sentence. "I believe, Milady, that it is time for another royal execution."