Althea disembarked from the ship and was immediately surrounded by people cloying for her attention. She pushed through them and raced into the Paragon headquarters as fast as her legs could carry her.

She'd put on the Paragon uniform right before landing—it would've been easier to run in the civilian clothing, but it would draw questions that she had no time to answer.

She rounded a corner and slammed into a secretary, whose papers fluttered everywhere. He cried out in dismay, but she didn't stop—finally, she arrived at the president's office doors, breathing hard. With a quick nod of authorization from the guards stationed outside, she burst inside.

Her father was roaring at a runner: "What do you mean Nathaniel is gone?"

The boy trembled in his boots. "Sir, i-i-it was like he just up and vanished, I can't explain—"

"Get out of my sight!"

He gave the quickest bow Althea had ever seen and bolted from the room.

President Glass paced in front of his desk while his entourage cowered. "Mark my words, the mages are responsible for this! Nothing for eight years—not a sound—and now a surge of activity. They're up to something!"

The door pushed open and Vice-President Tae strode in, taking her usual place by the president. Her sharp fingertips were crusted in crimson. The president didn't acknowledge her.

"Unless we want another Settlement disaster on our hands, we need to find out what they're planning." His eyes finally landed on Althea. "You! What did you find out?"

No "good to see you're still alive." No "sorry for sending you on a mission that should have killed you". Just, "give me the information." She hadn't expected anything else, really.

"Sir," Althea began. "The mages did take Nathaniel. They're planning on opening the passage in the fog again."

The president's eyes widened in surprise. The mages were finally doing what he'd demanded so long ago.

She pressed on. "They believe there are survivors in the Settlement, sir. They intend to go rescue them."

"That's impossible!" he spat. "There would've been survivors, if the feeble-minded cowards had done what I ordered eight years ago—but now there's nothing more than skeletons and dust!"

She continued. "The mages believe that the unbonded shade from Carnivale belongs to the mage in the Settlement. They think the mage figured out a way to separate from his shade and send it through the fog to us as a call for help. If the mage survived, they say there are other survivors, too."

"Other survivors?" He repeated.

For a moment, the president and Althea looked at one another—really looked at one another, and Althea could see the faintest glimmer of the person her father used to be before everything had gone so wrong. They were both thinking of the same person.

But the moment passed quickly.

The president went back to pacing, his face distorting back into anger and hatred as he turned his mind back to the mages. "A likely story..." His gaze landed on his entourage, who flinched a little. "You! Go consult my political advisors. I want to know what the mages are plotting."

They nodded vigorously, no doubt eager for an excuse to leave the president to his rage, and filed out the door as quickly as their stiff-legged uniforms would allow.

"Here are the facts, Althea," the president said once they were gone. "Those mages planted lies in your head. You were sloppy. You gave away your identity, and they used it to their advantage. You had one task: to alert us when the mages were together." He spoke through clenched teeth. "Were all of the mages together?"

She wanted to look away from him, but he would only see it as weakness. She held his gaze. "Yes, sir."

But she couldn't have betrayed them—not after what she'd learned.

The president looked at her expectantly, his eyes cold. "And yet you chose not to sound the alarm. All I asked was that you press a button, and you couldn't even do that. It's a good thing we had a backup plan in place, and discovered the mages were together in Stonecliffe.

"And now they've taken your brother. They're collecting all the pieces they need for their next stunt. Are you ready for another Settlement disaster, Althea? Are you ready to carry the guilt of knowing you could've prevented it?"

But Althea wasn't listening, not really. She was staring at her father, realizing something she should have many years ago: he truly didn't think there were survivors. He couldn't wrap his head around the possibility that the people in the Settlement been waiting all this time for the Paragon—for him—to save them. He was blinded by guilt and grief for his people and his wife, and over the years, he'd replaced it with rage.

Althea couldn't show her father what he didn't want to see.

"Tae!" the president growled. "Organize the troops. Send every available ship after the mages. I want their ship burned to the ground. I want all of them dead."

"Yes, sir."

The blood froze in Althea's veins. He was going to try and shoot down the mages' ship, with Nathaniel on it!

Her heart thudded in her chest. No, he wouldn't. He doesn't realize what he's saying.

"Father," she said quickly, "Nathaniel is on that ship."

He turned away from her. "I'm aware. Guards!" he called to the two uniformed soldiers just outside his door. "Take Althea away! Keep her in the brig until I tell you otherwise."

The ground was molasses, holding her feet in place.

He doesn't mean it. He can't mean it!

"No..." she whispered. But her father didn't turn around, didn't spare a glance back at her. She raised her voice. "You can't! He's your son!"

But the president was deaf to her words. He stood, back ramrod straight, his hands clasped behind his back.

Only Tae met Althea's eyes. Was that a faint trace of emotion on the vice-president's face? She couldn't be sure—she'd never seen anything other than the woman's stony exterior.

"Tae..." Her voice cracked as she appealed to the vice-president for help.

Two burly guards came into the room, heading for Althea.

Althea stiffened. She wouldn't make this for them—her brother's life was on the line, and a threat to him was a threat to herself.

Her instincts kicked into high gear, and she attacked.

Her hands shot to her boot, whipping her dagger from its sheath. As the guards reached for her, she spun around, slicing the blade across an outstretched hand. The first guard screamed, clutching bloody fingers. She spun around, hand closing on the cool metal grip of her revolver, pulling it from its holster—

The second lunged at her, his eyes furious. She took aim and fired. He fell to the ground, clutching his shattered kneecap and screaming in pain.

The first guard was back up already, his injured arm held to his chest as he reached for his gun. She fired again, firing a bullet into his shoulder and immobilizing him, then whirled around to face her father.

The president already had his gun pointed at her. "Stand down, soldier," he growled.

Althea barely heard him. Her heart was thudding, her head pounding. It was a struggle to keep her weapon trained on him.

Her blind commitment to the Paragon suddenly seemed horribly naive. How long would she continue to blindly follow her father? Would she let the survivors in the Settlement die so that the president could kill the mages and take their shades for the Paragon?

"Put it down," her father repeated.

If she lowered her revolver and let her brother die, who would she be? Would she ever be able to look in a mirror again without sending a fist into it?

She'd fought for the Paragon for her entire life. She'd fired at rebels on bloody battlegrounds with deafening gunfire and the ships overhead rattling her teeth...but nothing had ever managed to truly shake her until this very moment.

Everything hinged on what she did here, now. She had a choice: her father or Nathaniel.

She didn't need to think twice.

Althea kept her revolver raised. "No."

Father and daughter stood against one another.

The president's expression wasn't angry. It was firm, resolute. The way it was when he had to make the toughest decisions. "Don't be stup—"

BAM!

Her father fell to the ground, dead, a bullet buried in his temple. Althea let out a shocked cry.

Tae was holding one of the soldier's guns. Thin wisps of smoke wafted from the barrel, disappearing into the air. Quick and efficient, she brought out her own gun and pointed it at the whimpering guards.

Bam! Bam!

With the two shots, they fell silent.

Tae pointed a sharp finger at one of the guards lying face down on the floor, his gun still in hand. "He killed the president. I took him down, but it was too late." She pointed to the other guard. "He was caught in the crossfire. Nod if you understand."

Althea nodded, numb.

"Good." She looked down at the president, blood pooling around his head like a halo.

"If you try to sell me out, I'll tell them it was you," Tae said. Her voice was flat and emotionless, like hard cut jade. "The Paragon is better off without your father," she said. "Remember that when it eats at you in the night."

The words sent a shiver up her spine.

Footsteps were getting louder outside the president's office: soldiers were approaching.

Tae brought a finger to her lips, signalling quiet. Guards burst through the door.

Tae flung herself onto the president's chest. "Help! The president needs help! The guard shot him—he pulled out his gun and shot him..."

Althea was pushed aside as guards swarmed around the fallen president, checking his vitals.

Someone grabbed Althea's shoulders and shook. "Soldier! Are you all right?"

She pushed the man's hands off her. "Send combat ships and medical frigates to the passage in the fog," she told him. She felt distant, like she was far away, looking down at herself giving the orders. Were these words really coming out of her mouth, or did they belong to someone else? "There are survivors in the Settlement. The mages need Paragon assistance for a rescue mission."

The soldier was looking at her, dumbfounded. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.

"It was the president's last order," she said. "Get it done." Then she turned and walked away.

"Wait, where are you going?" the soldier shouted after her, but she didn't turn back. She didn't owe him an answer.

"He's dead!" she heard Tae cry again. "The president is dead!"