The silence made Zorak's footsteps sound all the louder as he made his way down to the dungeons. Only he had access to this part of the castle. He'd insisted upon it and strongly reprimanded any transgressions. He unlocked the door with a high creaking sound, and marched in, stopping before the cell he wanted. He unlocked this door too. Camille looked up at him coldly. He took no notice. She'd given him that glare so many times he'd ceased to care. She looked worn and resigned, but she sat up straight, holding his gaze. That defiant streak had always been both the most attractive and irritating part of her. Now, like with Adena, Zorak only felt contempt. Why did every woman he desired have to betray him?

"I had a visit from our son," Zorak said pleasantly. "I'm sure he'd send his regards, but... he thinks you're dead. Which for all intents and purposes, you are to everyone on Earth."

Camille didn't trust herself to answer, it seemed, because she didn't.

"It appears one of them snatched one of my possessions," Zorak continued. "A box I had in the wall of my study. I can't say I remember what was inside, but I would like it back. Out of principle, you see. A Demon Lord simply cannot allow such things to occur."

Camille inhaled.

"And what exactly does that have to do with me?" she demanded.

"Oh, nothing. I just thought you would like to know I'm going to find "your" son, as you so firmly put it, and take what's mine."

She turned away, as though unwilling to look at him any longer. Zorak smiled slyly.

"And you come here to rub my helplessness in my face, is that it?" Camille asked.

"Why, yes, that is the general idea," Zorak nodded, his sardonic smile still on his lips.

"Well, if there's nothing else I can help you with, I'd appreciate it if you would leave, so I can enjoy my confinement in peace."

At that, Zorak had to laugh.

"I must admit I'm impressed you've kept your resolve intact for so long."

"I think of my son," Camille said shortly. "I need no more motivation than that."

"But he thinks you're dead! You cannot actually believe he will find you?"

"Your mistake is always the same," Camille said. "You think less of humans even when you know you shouldn't. Haven't you learned anything from your previous encounters with Bane and the others? True hearts will always outshine evil, twisted souls like yours."

"I have been unlucky," Zorak snorted. "Nothing more. And now... I have an advantage."

Camille either didn't want to give him the satisfaction of asking what that advantage was or she didn't care. It didn't matter, he would tell her anyway.

"My own son, Zarias, is with yours now," he said. "He is slipping into their group unnoticed, and when they've let their guard down... snap! They will be mine."

Disgusted was not strong enough to describe Camille's expression.

"Zarias never was your son, nor will he ever be. You stole him from his true parents, just like you tried to steal Bane from my arms!"

"Well, even I cannot rule two worlds at once," Zorak commented, blatantly ignoring his captive's anger. "And I didn't know you at the time."

Camille opened her mouth but shut it. Zorak expected she had meant to say she wished she hadn't met him, but that would have meant indirectly rejecting Bane, and she didn't want to do that, given her fierce protectiveness of him.

"Well, in any case, I will get what I want soon enough." Zorak said. "I just thought you would like to know."

Zorak turned to leave, but Camille spoke again:

"I wouldn't be so sure your advantage is as strong as you think."

Zorak's eyes narrowed at Camille. He tried to read her face, but he had never been that good with human emotions.

"You seem to forget. Your son and his little friends can do nothing against me."

As the door slammed in her face, Camille squeezed her eyes tight to fight the tears that were burning to come out. As hard as she tried to keep a brave face in front of Zorak, the pain of knowing her son and brother thought her to be dead and the years of captivity had long since become unbearable. But what was she to do? The chain around her ankles was too thick for her to break free from, and even if she could, she wouldn't know the way. Not to mention she wasn't sure her stamina would be sufficient, either. But it had been nearly ten years and she had gotten nowhere. She couldn't call for help or convince a guard to release her, because Zorak was the only one who ever came down to see her. Probably for that very reason, she guessed.

She tried to picture Bane. He would be a young adult, now. She hoped he was safe. If Zorak had indeed sent someone to infiltrate his circle of friends, there was no telling what might happen... she had no idea what kind of man he'd grown to be, and that, more than anything else, was something that pained her each moment of every day. Sitting on her small bed, her fingers trailed along the wood until she felt the carving she'd made for Bane, one letter a day. It was hidden under her mattress, and she often felt the markings for comfort. It had taken a long time to achieve, but she'd done it.

To Bane, my darling son.

If you see this, it means I am no longer there to tell you this myself. But I cannot leave without you knowing this. I never stopped loving you. Not one second. You are and always will be the pride and joy of my life, even if we are apart.

But we shall not be apart forever, my love. If we do not have the joy of meeting again on Earth, we shall in the stars.

Your loving mother,

Camille Davis.

She didn't know if he'd ever see it. But if he did, it brought her at least a little comfort to think he would know she didn't leave him by choice. Of course, the way she saw it, he probably did already, but if he ever found out she'd been alive and didn't try and make contact, it would hurt him. And she couldn't bear to do that to her son. She refused to let that be what he remembered her by. Heaving a weary sigh, she lay back on her bed, staring at the blank ceiling she knew so perfectly she could draw it in her sleep. Nothing in her room was secret to her anymore. The small crack in the wall above her bed, the sharp edge to the rock by the door, the perfectly smooth ceiling that almost looked like terracotta.... She knew it so well she was sick of it. But she was also stuck with it. And she was fairly certain that the only thing that had kept her halfway sane all those years was knowing Bane was alive and well. She trusted Robert. He would give his life for his nephew.

But a tiny smile touched her lips. She couldn't deny she was feeling a tingle of satisfaction. She'd not told Zorak of course, but years ago, before she'd given birth to Bane, she'd left a picture of herself to Zorak, as a memento. She couldn't remember when exactly she'd left it there. But when Zorak had described what had been taken, it had ignited a tiny, cautious flicker of hope within her. She knew exactly which one Zorak had referred to. She'd seen him put papers in it before. Assuming it was where he kept his most important things, she had chosen it to place a picture of herself. It had been when she'd still had affection for him. Before she'd realized who he really was. It was finding the picture of a family had clinched it. She'd believed Zorak when he'd claimed Zarias was his son, but when she'd found the picture of his parents in the box, she'd seen the truth. She'd then hurried to the portal and left without another word. She'd always regretted not taking Zarias with her, but she'd never have escaped if she'd tried. She'd never gotten a chance to take the picture back, and it turned out that was a good thing. She only hoped that the box hadn't been taken by Zarias...