Amara's heart paced erratically as she scurried away. Her hand was placed over her chest as she tried to soothe her core. There's nothing there. Those dead eyes flashed in her mind. There was something foreign about them... something that she could not express. The feeling gnawed at her mind, unpleasantly seeking her attention. 

His eyes had never looked so hostile before.

'Stop it!' She hissed, irritated with her thoughts.

Her eyes took in the familiar corridor with great apprehensiveness- as if someone was coming for her. No matter how much she tried, she could not reason with herself. Soon, her padded footsteps turned into long strides as she ran toward Phoebe's lab, hoping to find some peace there. 

When she found herself in front of the plain door. She thought to herself, Why do I think he could see me? It was evident that Sir Rowan was blind. A cold chill went down her spine as she tried to breathe. 

Gritting her teeth, she tried to think of something that would calm her mind. Her mind wandered to the one person she admired. Damien. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, thinking about his smiling blue eyes that could put the sparkling ocean waters to shame. It was supposed to be a happy memory but when she touched her cheek, she felt her tears. 

Not for the first time, she wished for his presence. 

Do you miss me as much as I miss you? 

She drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. Dissolving all her thoughts, she pushed the door open.

The dark lab greeted her after the plain door.

Out of practice she raised her hand to light the torches with a flick of her hand- but caught herself before she could commit the blunder. She had been saving her magic for this very moment. It would be a shame if she spent it just for fire.

She felt the darkness for a box of matches. Having found it, she lit the fire.

Once the source of illumination was fixed, she began to look for the book and the ingredients that the Supreme Sorceress had used to summon her mother.

'Please work,' she whispered to the cauldron.

After going through the incantations once, she began to chant.

It seemed as strenuous as the first time. Dark spots danced in front of her eyes as the green tendrils emanating from her fingertips dissolved into the vessel. Her muscles were struggling to hold her up. She blinked rapidly to keep herself awake.

The trail of cloud that left the cauldron moulded itself into a feminine figure, Amara was surprised. The last time she had tried to summon her mother, she felt close to death.

All she felt was a little dizzy.

'My child,' the older Octavian greeted her panting daughter with a smile. 'It is nice to see you again.'

'That wasn't so hard,' Amara admitted out loud, glancing at the cauldron.

'I was summoned against my will the last time.'

'Oh.'

'Now tell me, why have you summoned me?' Her mother moved toward her caressing her cheek with her hand. Amara wished she could feel her palm but all she felt was a slight breeze carrying the sweet scent of roses. 

'Mother, I need your help to bring Damien back.'

Her mother looked at her quizzically. With a raised brow, she asked, 'Who is this Damien?'

Amara blushed as she struggled to explain to her mother just how much the blue-eyed Prince meant to her. 'Prince Damien is the Crown Prince of the Dithrai Kingdom,' She paused and casually slipped, 'And also m-my love.'

Amusement sparkled in the older woman's eyes as her daughter sputtered her words out. She chuckled at the deep red colour that tinted the younger woman's cheeks.

Amara gave her a mock glare, 'You know who he is, don't you?'

'Of course, child.'

'Then please, tell me where he is, mother. Please help me find him.'

Her mother's smile faded. She exhaled as she glided away from her, 'Amara, I cannot tell you that.'

'Why not?' Amara asked, startled. 

'Because I cannot see him.' 

Her blood ran cold. The fear that she faced moments ago was nothing compared to what broke down on her. Her limbs began to quake and she struggled to keep herself on her feet. Gathering enough courage, she asked, 'Is he...' dead?

'I don't know, my child.'

That did it. Amara fell on her knees, her hands cupping over her face as she bawled her eyes out. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt a gaping hole in her chest. No words left her mouth. There were only sobs of misery and loss. It was a useless action but that was all she could do. Her mind screamed and thrashed about, destroying everything but her physical self stayed put, hopelessly wailing on the ground. 

'Dear,' her mother's wispy form knelt next to her, 'it does not mean he's gone. There's still hope.'

The teary-eyed woman looked up at the kind face that looked back at her. 

'He can't be dead,' Amara whispered more to herself. That wasn't the Damien she knew. He wasn't the type to give up easily. He was resilient and loyal. He was the Estao Drakai who had laid waste to the Demon Army at the age of nineteen. 

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she repeated her words with more conviction. 'He can't be dead.'

He was strong. Brave. Kind... And all those wonderful things. 

But he kept a lot of secrets. 

She attempted to look up at her mother but ended up sobbing into her hands again. She wished for it to end. If this was a test, she was failing miserably. Pretending to be strong was easy at first but as time progressed, she was becoming a shell of the person she was.

Am I this desperate?

As if hearing her thoughts, her mother spoke, 'What you're going through is terrible, Amara but you need to hold yourself together.'

There was something about those words that pulled her out of her dark place. When she looked at the familiar face, she saw the sacrifice her mother had made. Her clan had sacrificed itself so that she may live on. By crying her eyes out and wallowing in her self-pity, she was throwing it away. 

Sniffing, she got to her feet and managed a smile, 'I'm okay now.' 

Her mother mirrored her expression and ran her hand over the younger woman's head as if she were brushing her hair with her fingers. The simple gesture made Amara feel vulnerable- she wanted to curl up on her lap and forget- but that was not possible so she decided to focus on the important matters at hand. 

'Mother, the Queen wants me to be the Chosen Heir,' she drew in a deep breath. 'I am conflicted.'

Her mother tilted her head, 'And why is that, my child?'

'I-' Amara bit her lower lip and attempted to explain, 'I cannot take his place, mother. He's alive and I don't want anyone else... I can't.'

'Do you believe that Prince Damien would want you to take his place?'

It was strange how she didn't even hesitate for a moment before answering. 'Yes.'

'Then what's holding you back?'

Amara struggled to put her irritation in words. 'I- They had come infuriating man take his place to pretend.' Her blood boiled as she thought of Wilshire's smug face. 'And now they want to choose an heir? I don't understand! How could they hide a piece of news like that! Don't the people deserve to know what has happened to him? Then the Demon King accuses the Dithrai of stealing and claim that they have Damien! We have no idea what the Demon King wants. We don't even know if he has Damien. 

'And now the Queen... she wants me to be the Chosen Heir! Me!' She pointed at herself incredulously, 'I have no knowledge about warcraft or politics whatsoever... I-' Tears formed in her eyes and she found herself crumbling down yet again, 'I want him back, mother. I want Damien back, safe and sound.'

By the time she was done, her chest was heaving. 

'Breathe, child,' her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. 

Amara was embarrassed by her outburst. It was so unlike her to be so unbalanced. 'I'm sorry, mother. I don't know what came over me.' 

'It happens to the best of us, Amara.'

'Please help me.' She pleaded. 'I feel as though I am losing my mind.'

'You must know, Amara, that being a leader is hard. What is often seen is the fancy names and the jewellery adorned by a monarch but what is ignored is their share of sacrifices. Leaders have to sacrifice more than any individual. 

'Do you not believe that the King and Queen want their son back?

'Do you think it was easy for them to watch someone else wander the halls pretending to be their son?'

'But the answer to that is simple, mother,' Amara argued, 'if they just told their subjects the truth.'

'And destroy their faith in them?'

The younger woman was at loss for words. 

'He is the Crown Prince, is he not? Does that not mean that his subjects will look up to him for protection? If they ever learnt of his disappearance, don't you think they will feel threatened? What will that do to order of society?'

Strangely enough, that was all Amara needed to see everything in a new light. 

'You must believe this, Amara. To a leader, their followers are like children. They must be protected, no matter the cost.'

Goosebumps trailed her arms. 

No matter the cost.

She shut her eyes. Those words were so bitter. 

'It's not fair.' Her voice was small. 

'I could not watch you grow, Amara. For you to fulfil the prophecy, our clan had to go. Do you think that was fair?'

Those words resonated across the lab like a slap. 

'I never asked for it.' As soon as she said it, she cringed. It was a sorry excuse of an argument.

'I never asked for it either, child but here I am.'

'So I just have to accept their decision?'

'No, you don't,' her mother proceeded to elaborate, 'You have to make a choice with a clear head and see it through till the end.'