Zia dropped her sword and allowed herself to fall to the ground. She was quick, but not quick enough to escape the knife's death path. She cried out in pain as it bit through the soft flesh just below her right shoulder. She clenched her teeth in pain as tears swam before her eyes. Gripping her wound tightly, she could see blood beginning to darken her tunic. Tentatively, she peeled back the material covering her wound and cringed at the sight before her. The wound was wide and deep, and Zia thought she saw a glimpse of white bone among the blood.

She turned her eyes back to where she had last seen Elaina, but there was no one there. Instead there were two forms wrestling on the ground.

Heath had Elaina's shoulders pinned to the ground and she was struggling to get free. She brought her knee up and jabbed it into Heath's stomach, causing him to loosen his grip on her. She shoved against his chest and managed to roll out from beneath him and get to her feet. Heath quickly followed suit and leaped to his feet. He pulled his bow from off his shoulder. He didn't have any arrows, but he used the weapon as a bo staff, twirling it around expertly in his hands, blocking all of Elaina's kicks and punches.

Zia tried to get up, but both her leg and her arm were screaming at her and she thought she might pass out from the pain. She spent most of her energy trying to keep herself awake, though she hated herself for it. She needed to help.

It was hard to tell who was winning the fight. Elaina must have either learned how to fight like a trained professional since the last time they had been together or had simply been hiding her abilities in hand-to-hand combat, because she swung, kicked, and punched with extreme accuracy and potential for injury. And while Heath blocked many of her blows with his bow and landed a few of his own, it was clear that the fight could go on for hours before pure exhaustion revealed which of them would win. 

Elaina lifted her leg up with a kick aimed at Heath's jaw, but he turned his bow just in time to block it. Before Elaina could retract her foot, however, Heath quickly turned the bow so that Elaina's foot was caught between the wood and the bowstring, trapping her. Elaina tried to escape, but Heath twisted his bow at a sharp angle, causing Elaina to cry out in pain. 

Zia could only watch as Elaina suddenly went limp and fell toward the floor, dragging Heath down with her. But before Heath fell on top of her, she used her free leg, her arms, and the momentum of his fall to throw him over her head. He went soaring through the air and landed with a sickening crunch on the stone ground near the door from which he had charged through only moments ago. His eyes closed and a weak groan escaped his lips. 

"Heath!" Zia cried out, her pain momentarily forgotten. She reached for her sword and tried to use it to help her make her way to his side, but the strain was too much for her wounds and she had to stop. Her eyes searched Heath's body desperately for any sign of life, but she could find none; she couldn't tell if he was moving or breathing at all. For all she knew, the force of the landing had cracked his skull.

Breathing hard, Elaina freed herself from Heath's bow and snapped the weapon in two over her knee, leaving it connected only by the drawstring. 

Elaina threw the weapon aside and turned to face Zia, who was still trying to make her way over to Heath's limp form on the ground. She found her knife which had clattered to the floor and stepped in Zia's path, blocking her way to her friend. 

Zia narrowed her eyes and glared at Elaina with deep loathing. She felt more anger toward this girl before her than she had ever felt towards anyone except for maybe Daxtor. Looks like the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, Zia thought angrily.

"It's all over now, Zia," Elaina said. "You won't be hurting anyone else ever again."

She raised her knife high above her head, but Zia's eyes weren't on the weapon that was about to end her life. They were on Heath's eyes as they peeked open and he quietly got to his feet. She could have sighed with relief as she felt she could breathe again. Not wanting to give Heath away, Zia forced herself to turn back to Elaina. She glared at her with complete hatred.

"You can't hurt anyone else, now," Elaina continued in satisfaction. "Now the world will be free of you." She started to bring the bronze dagger down toward Zia's head until she suddenly flew forward, hit the wall with loud a crack and collapsed on the floor unmoving, blood running from her temple and pooling on the ground.

Heath lowered his foot to the ground, panting hard. Zia felt she could have cried with relief at seeing him unharmed. But that moment of happiness died instantly as Heath cried out in pain and the tip of a blade stuck out of his stomach. He pitched forward and Zia screamed as he collapsed on the ground in front of her.

Her cry of shock froze on her lips as pure hatred and fear mixed together at the sight of Daxtor Myrna pulling his broadsword out of Heath's limp form. He carelessly wiped the blood off on his black cloak, not showing a glimpse of regret, anger, or any emotion at all for that matter. He appeared almost bored, as if he did this sort of thing every day. Zia felt her hate intensify. It burned so hot within her it was like she had swallowed the sun. She had never felt so angry in her life, and her whole frame shook with fury.

"Well now, my dear," Daxtor said carelessly, still wiping off Heath's blood. "How would you like to die?"

The sun was coming up now. They had been fighting all night, Jay realized. I guess time flies when your life is constantly being threatened, he thought.

Jay's swinging sword aimed at a Skilaen's head was blocked by the would-be victim's own sword. "I see how it is," the soldier said. "You help a man escape a deadly situation and he tries to lob your head off."

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, and when Jay looked closer at the man he saw a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at him.

"Borton?" he asked, unsure. He looked much the same since their last encounter. His eyes were the same hypnotic color and his face just as solemn. The only difference was that he was not wearing the bright yellow coat with a phoenix emblazoned on the chest that the Skilaen soldiers wore.

Borton nodded, turned to face the army he had been part of, and leaped into the Otarian ranks next to Jay. He began to fight the men he had just been fighting alongside, not even a slight change of emotion showing on his face.

"Where's Zia?" Borton asked Jay as he stabbed one of his old allies with his sword.

"Inside, safe," Jay assured him, ducking the swing of a mace aimed at his head.

"Who's this?" Arch, on Jay's other side asked, gesturing toward their new ally with his free hand.

"This doesn't seem like the time for introductions," Jay said blocking a spearhead aimed at him, "but Arch, this is William Borton. He helped us escape when we were captured. Borton, this is Arch Reems, leader of the Thieves of Otar."

"Ah, so you're the stableboy the Queen told me about. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Forgive me if I do not stop to shake your hand," Arch grunted. He made a deep cut into an enemy's leg before shoving him back into the Skilaen army.

"Where is Zia?" Borton repeated, ignoring both Jay and Arch. "I need to find her."

"If you're planning on giving those answers you promised her, this might not be the best time," Jay said. "I'm sure she'd agree."

"Her life is in danger!" Borton called in frustration. "It might already be too late. Where can I find her?"

"She's inside. Go to the left, up a flight of stairs all the way to top, and then take a right. Her room is the last in the corridor," Jay told him. "Go quickly." He still wasn't sure if he trusted William Borton, but if Zia's life was at stake, even if he didn't understand how, he was willing to give the man a chance. After all, he did help them escape. 

"Thank you," Borton said earnestly. He turned to go, but Jay called him back. "What?" he asked shortly.

"How did you know Zia's name?" he couldn't help asking. "Who is she to you?"

Something that looked almost like a smile flashed on Borton's face before disappearing. "Suffice it to say that if Zia is anything like her mother, she'd bury me alive if I told you before her." And with that the mysterious man turned tail, ran past the army, and ducked into the castle.

The edges of Zia's vision went red. She ignored the pain in her arm and leg and forced herself onto her feet. She raised her sword and ran at Daxtor, her pulse pounding loudly in her ears.

Daxtor blocked her swing, and Zia struck again, faster this time, aiming for Dexter's chest- right where his heart should have been.

But Daxtor blocked her again, as if he had known right where her sword would strike. Years of fear and hatred toward this man swelled within Zia's chest and she attacked more ferociously than she had ever done before, each strike aimed to kill. Her arm screamed in pain and her leg protested at having to hold her weight, but she pushed her pain aside until it was as insignificant as a flea in her face.

To Zia's pleasure, Daxtor could barely defend himself. He wasn't nearly as skilled a swordsman as Zia was, and Zia knew she could easily finish him off, easily end his suffering. But then memories of hours upon hours of merciless beatings with no respite from the man before her made her want to make him hurt as he had hurt her. The desire for revenge seemed to overwhelm her. A cold darkness formed in her chest and bloomed there, feeding on her grudge of hatred and anger. The darkness seemed to push into her mind and nest there, turning all her thoughts dark and cold.

She raised her sword high over Daxtor's head and prepared to swing it downward in its deadly arch that would end his life. Daxtor was worn out and was wheezing heavily. He stared at Zia with no expression on his face, only waiting for the end to come. He knows he's lost, Zia thought happily. 

Then Zia suddenly stopped. She stopped fighting, and just stood there, not even noticing the rest of the world. She didn't notice Elaina's body lying fallen on the floor. She didn't notice Daxtor panting and trying to catch his breath. She hardly even noticed Heath's tunic turning dark with blood.

Darkness. Revenge. Mercilessness. They all had one thing in common- they were taught to her by the ruthless man before her. 

Zia felt like she had swallowed a rock as she realized that in her desire for revenge she had completely forgotten and disregarded her lifelong resolution to never be anything like Daxtor. She had become so distracted, so consumed by the thought of making Daxtor pay for everything he had done to her that she had started to become cold and merciless like him. She felt disgusted with herself, like she hadn't bathed in years, and she was anxious to make herself clean again.

She lowered her sword, suddenly unable to finish the deed that she had desired to carry out for longer than she could remember.

Daxtor seemed to read Zia's thoughts, because he smiled evilly at her as he panted heavily and said, "You see? It's not so easy to keep out the darkness." He took a step toward her and Zia stepped back.

He cackled. "You're afraid still. Still afraid of a little beating when you have the power of the mighty dragons in your veins!" He spat, as if disgusted with her.

"I don't have any power!" Zia said for what felt like the millionth time in the short time she had known the legend of the Golden-Eyed One.

"Still you deny it?" he asked indigently. "People are dying because of this war. Because of you.  And you still are too afraid of yourself to save them."

"Don't pretend like you give a goose egg what happens to anyone!" Zia shouted. She swung her sword at him again and made a deep gash on his leg.

Daxtor cried out in pain and fell to one knee. Then he lunged his sword at Zia, his face red with rage and a fierce look of determination in his eye.

The Otarian army had fought long and hard, and Jay was proud of them because of that, but he couldn't help but be filled with dread as the Skilaen army broke through their defenses, causing them to scatter. 

"We gave it our best effort," Arch said as they could do nothing but watch as the Skilaens cut down man after man. It was much easier to take down enemies when they were scattered than in a formation, as everyone knew. 

"I just wish it had been enough," Jay whispered sadly.

"Get inside the castle!" a Skilaen officer shouted. "The one to bring me the girl's head will be awarded a Black Rod!"

Zia was fighting Daxtor again, but this time it was purely in defense. Not that she couldn't have killed him if she wanted to- oh, how she wanted to!- but the thought of the darkness that had invaded her mind kept coming back to her and kept her from dealing the final blow. Well, that and her sword arm bursting in pain from the weight of her sword; it was much harder to ignore the pain without anger and adrenaline rushing through her.

Daxtor thrust his sword toward her, and she went to block it, but at last moment he flicked his sword upward and cut her right wrist. She shouted in pain and shock and instinctively let her sword clatter to the ground.

Daxtor leveled his sword with Zia's undefended chest with a look of triumph in his eyes. "At last," he said with relish.

Zia did not raise her hands, did not plead for mercy. She simply looked Daxtor in the eye and said boldly, "Do your worst, you worthless worm."

Anger flashed in Daxtor's eyes as he pulled his sword back and prepared to plunge it into her heart. Zia felt no fear- in fact, she felt brave. 

Daxtor's blade was coming closer and closer to her each passing second. But suddenly the blade stopped only inches from her chest and clattered to the floor. A look of pain was etched across Daxtor's face and he fell to his knees, exposing the form of William Borton pulling his sword out of the limp body.

Daxtor fell to the ground and didn't move again. Zia couldn't tell if he was dead or not, though part of her was still holding out hope that it was the former. 

"Are you alright?" Borton asked Zia, putting his sword in its sheath.

Zia wasn't sure which was more strange- that her real father had just killed the man who had posed as her father for six years, or that her real father was here speaking to her.

"I'm fine," Zia said. She made her way over to Heath, holding her breath and praying that he was alive. She placed a hand on his chest, but could feel no movement. She felt nauseous as she bent over him to listen for breathing or a heartbeat. All she heard was silence. 

"No," she whispered as tears came to her eyes. "No." She shook Heath's shoulder to rouse him, but he did not wake. She shook him harder. "Heath. Wake up."

"Zia," Borton said quietly, as though speaking to a wounded animal. "He's gone."

Tears spilled down Zia's face and she choked on a sob. "No. No, not Heath."

She laid her head on his chest, desperately listening for any trace of a heartbeat or a breath, but once more hearing nothing.

He was gone.

Zia didn't even try to stop the tears from running down her face, but let them flow freely. She choked on her own tears and was sent into a fit of coughs. She curled on the ground next to Heath's body and shook as her body was racked with sobs. She didn't feel the pain in her arm or her leg anymore. She didn't even feel the cold of the stone floor beneath her. She just felt numb, like her whole world had shattered in an instant.

She sat up and pulled Heath's head onto her lap, hoping that the movement would rouse him. But, of course, it didn't, and Zia cried all the harder. "Not him," she sobbed. "Please, not Heath."

Zia felt Borton rub a hand awkwardly on her shoulder, but she didn't pay it any attention. Her eyes were glued to Heath's pale, handsome face.

"I'll give you a moment," Borton decided awkwardly. He closed the door behind him, and Zia did not mind at all that it locked her inside; she felt as though she would forever be trapped within that room.

Through Zia's fogged state a voice seemed to ring out through the room. At first she thought Borton had entered the room again, but when she raised her head and looked around, it was just her, Heath, Daxtor, and Elaina, Zia being the only one to present signs of life.

She heard the voice again, louder and clearer this time. The voice was gruff, yet soft, and it sounded strangely familiar, though Zia could think of no time when she had heard it before.

The voice came again and Zia listened closely to the words it was saying. Love is the key.

Boston had said that to her, just after he had helped her and the other escape. "Love?" Zia asked through her tears. "Love for what?"

But she felt she knew the answer to that question. She turned to look back at Heath. She did love him. He had been her dearest friend and biggest support, even when they didn't get along. He was kind, funny, and selfless. But in the past few weeks he had come to be more than that. He had still been her best friend, and nothing would ever change that, but what had changed was that Zia had stopped seeing him as just her friend. She thought of how unsure she had felt the night when Heath had kissed her cheek. Now she longed with all her heart that she could have that moment back, to see Heath's bright smile again.

She thought of the faces of all the other people she loved: Ike, Arch, Jay, the Thieves, even grumpy old Percival. She was surprised to find King Donathan, Queen Fraya, and even William Borton in the mix. She thought of them each individually and of how each and every one of them had made her life better. Arch had saved her from a life of constant fear and trial. Ike had eagerly accepted her into his heart when he could have scorned her and turned her away. Jay had become a close friend on their journey through the Westfell Pass, and Zia would do just about anything for him. Borton had set her free from the clutches of Daxtor when all hope had seemed lost. Fraya had given her answers that Zia hadn't even known she had questions to, and Donathan had allowed her to be cared for by his physician when her life was in danger.

And then there was Heath. When she looked down at his lifeless face she felt as though something sharp was tearing at her chest. Heath had given her happiness in that cage. He had put a smile on her face when her worst nightmares had come to life. He had always had a way of seeing when she was upset, and he always knew how to fix it. And he wasn't afraid to challenge Zia's hot-headedness with his own.

Zia hung her head until her forehead touched Heath's and she closed her eyes as her tears splattered onto his face.

Then something inexplicability wonderful happened. Zia felt like something in her mind had clicked and everything came into clear, sharp focus. She could see every hairline fissure in the stone floor, every mite of dust floating in the air. She began to feel warm inside, like someone had lit a bonfire in her chest. It started slowly, but quickly began to build, like log after log was being added. It was soft and comforting, and Zia closed her weary eyes and tried to draw strength from it.

The heat grew from a glow to a raging forest fire. Zia began to sweat, though she wasn't afraid. In fact, she felt strangely peaceful, as if Heath were not dead, as if there was not a war. It was as though the whole universe was in harmony with itself. The tears dried on Zia's face and her sobs died down to deep even breaths, only interrupted by small hiccups every now and then. Everything was fine. There was no reason to cry. Time seemed to slow until it stopped completely.

Then the fire in her got too hot. It felt like she had swallowed three suns. Her body was burning, especially the wounds on her arm and leg, and the stone floor which had once been cold to the touch was now as hot as the coals from a fire, but still she wasn't afraid. Zia watched, hypnotized, as the stone at her feet started to glow orange, as though a fire had been lit inside. It started off small, but it began to grow, like a small glow spreading into a flame. 

"What are you doing in here?" Borton asked as Jay and Arch came running up to him. He had decided to sit on the staircase near Zia's room to give her privacy. It seemed strange to sit patiently on the stairs while war was being waged just outside the window, but he sat nonetheless.

"Our ranks have been broken," Arch panted. "We've lost."

Borton's heart sank, but then he remembered that his daughter, his darling girl that had been stolen from him eighteen years ago, was just down the hall. "Things will turn out fine," he said confidently. "It's not over yet. We mustn't lose our hope. We still have Zia."

The ring of glowing stone passed under Heath's body, slowly making its way toward Daxtor's and Elaina's. But the heat didn't stop there. It spread up the walls and overhead. Soon the whole room seemed to be glowing orange. As the whole room was filled with the heat, Zia realized that it was being drained from her as it grew. The room became so hot that Zia felt like she was being roasted. The walls were painful to look at, and she thought that perhaps the stone would melt beneath her feet. But she didn't worry about it. All was well.

The last of the heat left Zia, but the peaceful feeling remained. It stayed there in her chest, like a bright little candle that she hadn't realized was there before. She began to hear lovely bells ring through the air. It was quiet at first, but then it grew louder and clearer. She didn't know the song that the bells were playing, but she found herself humming along cheerfully.

 Zia suddenly felt drained. The physical and emotional exhaustion had finally caught up to her, yet she still felt oddly calm as her eyes started to close and she curled up on the red-orange floor. The last thing Zia remembered before she drifted off to sleep was a beautifully familiar voice saying her name.

"Is it getting warm in here?" Arch asked. "Or is that just me?"

"No, I feel it too," Jay said. He wiped his brow of perspiration that was forming there.

"Do you hear that?" Borton asked. They all quieted to listen. In fact, it seemed like the whole world had suddenly stopped to listen. The fighting both within the castle and throughout the citadel ceased as both friend and foe listened to the melodious tones ringing through the air in an enchanting tune.

"Are those bells?" Arch whispered. 

"Yes, they are," Borton replied softly.

"But where are they coming from?" Jay asked in wonder. "What's making them ring?"

"Zia," Borton said simply, the biggest grin Jay had seen on his face. "She's done it."

As the bells chimed, everyone stopped to listen, and as they listened they felt an overwhelming sense of calm that they hadn't felt for days. Injuries seemed to fade into scars, and anger and worry melted into peacefulness and a sense of contentment. Some even started to sing along with the tune of the bells, making up words as they went.

"Eh, am I just imagining things, or is the corridor glowing?" Jay asked.

Arch and Borton looked to where he was pointing. The stone of the castle was indeed glowing with a red-orange light. But fear did not pierce through their sense of peace as the glow grew brighter and spread towards them. In fact, the closer the glow got, the more peaceful they felt. When the glow touched him, Borton felt an overwhelming sense of relaxation and warmth. He had the strange urge to take a nap. He didn't question this urge, but acted upon it, curling up on the warm floor like a kitten curling in front of a fire. Yawning, Jay and Arch did the same.

The glow spread quickly throughout the castle, and everyone it touched laid down where they were and went to sleep.

Down in the infirmary Link, who had been working tirelessly to do all he could to make the numberless injured comfortable, watched in amazement as the floor suddenly filled with a brilliant glow. As the glow touched the wounded men, their eyes fluttered open and they sat up, their wounds no longer a bother. Then they would smile sleepily before lying back down and drifting off into a deep slumber

Link only had a few moments to stare in wonder at the sight before he himself yawned and curled up on the floor and slept.

The women refugees who had been in the Grand Hall each found a spot on the warm floor and drifted off to sleep. The refugees in the dungeons found themselves places amongst bales of straw before settling down to rest.

As the last soldier laid down his weapon and placed his head gently on the ground to sleep, the glow that had started in one small room continued to spread for miles and miles and did not stop until it seemed the whole world were engulfed in light. It easily passed through the boarders of the south into Skilae and to the north into Mitha and Scullin. It spread over the ocean, and it didn't stop until it seemed the whole world had been engulfed in light.