Irene held Peter's hand tight in hers as the long plane ride continued. Neither of them spoke. Peter had been tearful at first over the loss of his pets, but never broke down. Now, his jaw was clenched and his eyes focused in an expression very much like Levi's when he got stubborn about something, no trace of tears remaining.

Crackle buzzed faintly against Irene's arm, his small furry body a comforting reminder that they weren't completely alone. Even if all the big and noticeable minions had been taken down, there was still at least one surprise up their sleeves if they got the right opportunity to take advantage of it.

For a time they flew in silence, the hum of engines their only accompaniment. At first Cas tried to restrain herself, but before long she transitioned from 'sit quietly and assess everything' into 'chat the ears off absolutely everyone' mode.

She only got away with it for a few minutes before being ordered in no uncertain terms to shut up. Cas being Cas, she disagreed with this advice and things escalated into a very loud argument.

"You know what this is? This is kidnapping, pure and simple. You lot, when I get out of here, you'll be in so much trouble! I'm a citizen. I have rights!"

"At the moment, you're a volatile magical entity who cannot be disarmed safely. Please stop shouting and have a seat."

"And another thing you should keep in mind, is that this rusty bucket isn't going to hold me forever. So even if you're ready to be sued within an inch of your life, you'd better pray you're far, far away when I finally break out, because I do not forgive easily!"

"It was scarier the first six times," the bored guard retorted. "You need new material."

Two of the other guards exchanged glances, clearly tired of the exchange - which, Irene had to admit, had been going on rather a long time by now. But she knew that trying to tell Cas to stop would only make things escalate further, so she sat quietly and stayed out of it. The past weeks had been good for the sisters, the sustained close contact allowing them to go beyond the superficial catching-up of occasional meetings for holidays and actually deepen their relationship.

Right now, Cas meandered through topics from threats to insults in an increasingly uncharacteristic hysteria. Finally, one of the guards leaned over and zapped her with an electrically charged mana disc that knocked her out cold.

"Entirely justified," the guard next to him murmured, as the disc lost its glow and fell inert to the ground.

The trip was very quiet, after that. No one else wanted to risk their captors' ire.

Irene was silent for a different reason, mulling over what they'd learned. Cas's argument with their captors had revealed more than a few disturbing truths about their situation. Clearly, whatever private or government operation this was, it had no consideration for people's rights.

'Volatile magical entity.' As far as they were concerned, by Awakening, their prisoners had set themselves outside the protections legally provided to humans. They were now a threat to be contained, rather than citizens to be protected, despite any lip service to the contrary.

Irene wondered if that had been Cas's point.

Since her sister was unconscious now and no one else was stepping up, Irene began mentally tracking their compatriots, checking over everyone's levels and how much she knew about them. Drakonias and Riana had been with them the longest, since their very first convention recruitment attempt, and they had decent levels. But none of them was enough to compete with the discipline and armaments of their captors. Especially without their equipment.

Perhaps together, though...

She remembered seeing them drag Henry's body toward the other plane, before the ogres crashed in and everything went to chaos. If they planned to bring the minions with them that gave them at least a chance. If Peter could get off a revive at the right time. A little extra distraction at the right moment could be just what they needed.

The right moment never came. Cas was still unconscious when they landed, and with so many high-level guards around, starting anything would have resulted in more than a few casualties.

"One at a time. Out."

Irene followed the others, her mind still looping through useless ideas that wouldn't work.

"One at a time," growled the guard at the door when she tried to follow Peter out. He grabbed Peter's wrist and Irene's, pulling their clasped hands apart with a quick burst of stamina, shoving her back inside and sending Peter stumbling down the ramp.

"No, he's my son, you can't--" She tried to push past, but it turned out they had more than one of those little stun discs they'd used on Cas.

When she regained awareness, she'd been relocated to a small room and chained to a stone floor, alone. It wasn't a large room, a pretty typical prison cell, if prison cells were made of smooth perfect dungeon-stone. The stone wasn't the faintly reddish-grey of a Destruction dungeon, however, but a more mundane brown-grey, so it may have been entirely nonmagical in nature. It had a metal door fitted to its entry, a stone slab to which she was chained, and no other furnishings.

Peter was nowhere to be seen.

First she tried calling for him, in case they were in a prison with rooms nearby to each other. When no voice answered her, she grew increasingly frantic, tugging at her bonds while her shouting grew less and less coherent.

She was his mother, she was supposed to look out for him. This was unacceptable.

Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she switched from screaming for Peter to begging her captors to let her see him, but the room remained empty and no voice answered.

She was used to the anxiety that came with watching her son fight deadly battles against inhuman monsters, but at least then she'd known she could step in if things ever got out of hand. She had abilities now that could save him if it ever came down to it.

But she couldn't save him if she couldn't reach him. And right now she had no idea where he was or what was happening.

Irene wasn't normally one to break down into hysterics, but it had been an exceptionally stressful month.

It wasn't conscious thought, wasn't intentional act, but deep instinct born of prolonged panic that finally answered her frantic pleas.

Power burst out of her, all of it, her mana and stamina zeroing out in an instant as pure desperation triggered something unknown. Like a mana ping, but universal in direction and homing in on only one thing.

Her flash of power spread out thinner and thinner until it located its target, then snapped into that position with a lurch of backlash that knocked the breath out of her, cutting off her screams in a surprised gasp.

Trace mode enabled. Warning! You have forced activation of a locked ability. Mana and Stamina cannot regenerate while this ability is active.

Active Trace: Peter Morrison

Tamer Level 9

Health: 98%

In the same instant, Irene felt a surge of connection so strong and clear that, if she weren't chained in a small room, she knew she could walk straight to Peter's location with her eyes closed. He was close, but two floors down and a moderate hall's length of a walk away.

Irene collapsed against the wall in relief, spent both physically and emotionally. While she'd much prefer to have him right in front of her, as long as she knew where he was and that he was safe, it would be alright.

Crackle flew down from the ceiling and landed on her shoulder.

"Sorry for scaring you." Irene gently patted the scarab's sleek shell. "I'll be fine now. And we're going to get out of this."

Even as she watched, Peter's health ticked up to 99%, then a minute later stabilized at 100%.

As long as they were alive, they could find a way.