"Dark wizards creep me out," one of the soldiers said to another, as they walked along the dark hallways of Damian's keep. "They stalk around in those black cloaks in the dark and keep coming back with different prisoners. I can't help but feel pity for some of them, like that little ginger girl."

"Don't," the other said quickly. "She was a thief. She got what she deserved, in my opinion, and there's no other way about it."

"A thief's far better than a murderer," the first soldier argued, raising his torch. It illuminated the cells around them, some occupied. A few haggard-looking people reached out, pleading for mercy, and the first soldier shuddered. "I hate this place."

The second man took a more cynical approach. "Better them than me."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that." The dark voice came from behind them, and there was the sharp sound of tearing flesh. The second soldier toppled over, dying silently.

The first man backed up as their second attacker pushed him against the wall, pointing a blade at his throat. Under the cowl, he thought he saw red eyes and long black hair. What was the creature pointing its sword at him? "You," his captor said, and the soldier realized it was a woman, abnormally tall, but a woman still. "You wanted to help these people?"

"I didn't know what I was getting into," he stammered out. "W-who are you?"

"That is none of your concern," the woman—whatever she was—replied. "What should concern you is how long you want to live."

The man stared at her, chewing his lip in anxiety. "What do you want from me?"

The creature smiled, and he saw pointed teeth. "I want you to tell me where the cells are. And then I want you to leave here and never return."

"But the dark wizards will come and—"

"The dark wizards will not bother with you." That was the male one, who had returned from looking around. "Delna, there's someone in one of the cells you need to see."

The woman, Delna, turned from the soldier, the sword never wavering from his throat. "What is it?"

"Just let him go," her compatriot said impatiently. "Let him go and come here."

Delna glared at the soldier and stepped back. The man, unsure whether or not he was supposed to go, stood where he was, eyes wide as he watched the red-eyed duo go to the cell the other creature had indicated. The woman swore. "How could this have happened?"

"Our information was faulty," the other one said irritably. "I thought she was supposed to be dissolved into sand. How can she be here?"

The soldier scowled, moving up behind them. If they were talking about who he thought they were talking about, she shouldn't be there. And sure enough, sprawled out on the floor, her face whiter than snow, was Elaine Silvereye.

Alive.

Delna looked at the other. "This could be a problem, Aldrac."

Aldrac seemed to be considering her question. "I understand that," he said. "But what do we do? Kill her? I don't think that's the answer."

"But if she's here—"

"Patience," Aldrac answered, dashing back the cowl of his cloak. The soldier stared as he realized that the figure was only a teenager, black haired, red eyes. "You know we need patience. And a new plan. Which means we need to retreat before they come and find us."

"Agreed," Delna said, fixing the soldier with a cold look. "Go."

The soldier backed away uncertainly, before turning his back on them and running. He didn't make it far before he felt a burning pain in his back. His body could no longer hold him up, and he fell, face-first into the floor. A groan escaped his lips. "Aldrac," Delna said, sighing. It was as if the other had only stolen a cookie instead of stabbing the man, who moaned feebly in an effort to receive mercy.

"What? The dark wizards can't know who we are," Aldrac replied. "It's no offense to you," he added to the dying soldier.

The man wheezed, looking up through darkening eyes as Aldrac leaned over him. "I suppose you can say that I have a bit of my mother in me," he said, just before the life left the soldier's face.

. . . . . . . . . .

"I'm worried," Morgan said. "Elsa's been gone for an hour."

"You know that if she's still talking to Set, she'd flay us alive if we interrupted," Apollo said tiredly, putting his hands on either side of his face and sighing. "As much as I want to."

Gerald had been pacing for the last forty-five minutes, frustrated. He seemed to be like a caged animal, pacing in anxiety. "And what if he be killing her?" he said. "Ain't it worth the risk?"

"You haven't seen her angry before," Morgan admitted.

Gerald shook his head. "Don't care. I be going to see if she be alright. Anger or not." Without waiting for any of the others to answer, he set off after where they'd seen Elsa and Set disappear. Grateful that someone had started moving, Apollo went after him, leaving Juliette and Morgan behind as the two of them plowed through the streets and the growing crowds as the sun rose high overhead.

"Where could they have gone?" Gerald asked in frustration as they moved quickly through the streets. "Ye don't think something happened to her?"

Apollo didn't answer. His foot had caught on something on the ground and he'd nearly tipped over. Heart in his throat, the healer knelt down and his fingers closed around a leather wristband. When he picked it up and held it up, a tiny knife popped out of it. "It's Elsa's," he said.

Gerald's face reddened. "He took her," he said. "Or he killed her—"

"Don't jump to any conclusions," Apollo said quietly, but he didn't release the wristband. "Go back. Get Morgan and Juliette and bring them here. Do it quickly."

Gerald barely seemed to hear him, but he sprinted off without a word. Apollo tightened his grasp over the wristband. "Elsa, you fool," he said quietly. "What were you thinking? What were you doing?" He put the band into his pocket and waited for Gerald to arrive with the others.

. . . . . . . . . .

Set smiled triumphantly as he laid Elsa's body down in the glass coffin he'd prepared. Their deal had been most effective. It had removed the thief from the equation, and she would be wonderful bait for a trap for the rest of her friends. He placed the cover over the coffin, looking inside of it. Elsa was so still and cold, she may as well have been dead. But she wasn't.

Once the cover was over her, he backed away. Her friends would come for her soon, of that he was certain. He only had a few more things to prepare for their arrival. And once they arrived ...

He would be ready for them.

. . . . . . . . . .

My room was dark and silent, aside from the sobs shaking my shoulders. How could my friends have turned their backs on me as they did? People I thought I could trust, who had turned their backs on me. Lloyd wasn't so unexpected, but Serra. She was Owen's beloved, closer to him and to me than anyone else. She doubted me. Thought I was an incompetent ruler.

Was she right? Did I rule wrongly? Did I care more about myself than anything else? I didn't think that I did, but was that just me being selfish and deluding myself into believing it? As my doubts plagued me, tears continued to stream down my cheeks. I felt like a failure.

My door opened without warning. Hastily, I tried to cover my face, but it was too late. Owen's arms were around me in an instant. "Corrin ... Corrin, what is it? Why are you crying? Serra told me that she hadn't seen you since the meeting!"

"Of course she hasn't," I said, and I couldn't hide the bitterness in my voice. "I didn't want her to."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Owen asked, hearing the angry undercurrents in my words.

"It means that she thinks I'm incompetent and a fool," I answered, rubbing at the tears on my cheeks angrily.

"Serra?" Owen didn't seem to know whether he should be amused or annoyed. "How do you know she thinks that?"

"I heard her talking to Lloyd. She agreed with him, Owen," I said, biting my trembling lip. "They said I was a weak ruler. That I didn't care about anything besides myself."

"You and I both know that's not true," Owen said, squeezing me in a hug. "You will be a wonderful Queen, Corrin. Lloyd doesn't know you at all. And you let me talk to Serra."

"No," I said.

Owen froze temporarily. "No?"

"No. I—I know you love her, Owen," I said, the words heavy on my tongue. "I don't want anything to get between the two of you. Not even me."

Owen frowned. "But Corrin—"

"I don't know if she meant it or not. If she did, then there's nothing I can do about it," I interrupted. "So I'm not going to think about it. I just have to be the best Queen that I can be. I want to keep my people safe."

"And you will," Owen replied. "I know you will. And I'll help you do it, Corrin. You have my solemn word that I will stand by you no matter what."

I nudged myself closer to my brother, leaning in to his embrace. He was always there for me, even when I felt the most alone. If nothing else, at least I could protect him.

. . . . . . . . . .

Cora woke with tears on her cheeks. The bond between Corrin and Owen was so similar to the bond between Cora and Daren, it was painful. Two siblings who loved each other dearly and would do anything for each other. And yet, they had been together, and Cora and Daren were not. That was the difference between the four of them. And it was that difference that felt like a knife to Cora's heart, every time she saw the memories. She was different from Corrin. Corrin had friends and Cora had nothing. Nobody. Just advisors who were poisoning her and a brother who was missing.

Cora forced her eyes open, knowing she would get no more sleep tonight. She never did after those dreams. But it wasn't like she could move anymore, since the poison had dramatically sapped her strength. She couldn't even sit up, she was so weak. It was frustrating.

Bump. The noise echoed throughout the room, and Cora stiffened. If only she could move ... but she simply laid in the darkness, trying not to breath to fast, wondering if the intruder could hear her heart beating rapidly. Her fists clenched underneath the blankets.

A hand clamped over Cora's mouth. She screamed, but the sound was muffled, and already weak, it barely made any noise at all. "This her?" The voice was deep, and Cora was unable to see its owner. The person was obviously male.

"Let me see." A pair of red eyes appeared in Cora's vision, lined by black hair. A girl's face. "Golden eyes, red hair ... it's her, Aldrac."

"Scream and you die," Aldrac warned, pulling his hand away.

Cora glared at the pair, seeing the two sets of red eyes looking out of the darkness at her. "You work for the dark wizards, don't you?" she snapped angrily.

"Work for them?" That seemed to amuse Aldrac. "Is that honestly what you think?"

"We're wasting time," the girl warned. "Let's take her and go."

"I'll scream," Cora threatened, as Aldrac reached for her.

"Then I'll stab you," Aldrac answered. "And I think we both know that won't end well for you." Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Cora by the arms and threw her over his shoulder. She grunted in pain and annoyance, but she didn't scream. Not after the threat he'd just delivered to her.

Aldrac's companion stepped forward and clamped something over Cora's nose and mouth. Struggled though the Princess did, she could do nothing as the sickly-sweet scent overwhelmed her, and she drifted into a fog, losing consciousness.