Keefe drifted listlessly through the base, the hollow echo from his caved in soul closing around his throat as goons moved all around him, passing weapons to be inspected or talking over plans on how to best sneak into the venue. He had been given orders to go see Fintan in his office, though he had no idea why the pyrokinetic would want to see him. He had followed orders these past few days, done everything they asked, and the Neverseen weren't the type of people to praise. They had already excused him from receiving blasts for the last few days, which were proving to wear off more quickly the more often you got them. What did they want with him now?

Ever so slowly, his emotions had been coming back. It wasn't much, but now he could feel things like homesickness and dread, which is exactly what the iron staff through his chest was made of at the moment. Feelings... felt... foreign. They were strange, yet familiar, like a person who learned to play piano as a child, stopped, then started to take it back up again when they were an adult. He tried his best to pretend like they weren't there, in fear of losing and never experiencing them ever again. If they didn't know, they couldn't take them away... Is that what this was about?

As nonchalantly as he could, he walked into the head general's office and plopped himself down in a chair. Fintan was standing by the window, looking out at the desolate landscape outside of their base- Fintan's own, charred accomplishment. It was a wonder the Black Swan hadn't found it yet- or maybe they had, and were leaving it be for the time being. Keefe almost wished they would storm it, so he didn't have to keep doing these villain's bidding; so he didn't have to pay back his mom's debt to them; so he could live a normal life again; so he could feel like he use to.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here..." The horrible man facing away from him said dryly, and Keefe could've sworn that he could see the wicked smirk of all knowing anticipation through the back of his head. "I wanted to go over the plans of the operation with you one more time."

"Sounds good," Keefe said boredly, though he could feel some of his nerves spark with electricity- a feeling that he had missed.

Chuckling darkly, Fintan turned around and sat in his plush office chair that was littered with scorch marks from all the time the general had lost his temper. Luckily, it matched the sets of handprints burned permanently into the wood of the desk, splaying out like a child had drawn a flock of hand turkeys, "You take the espionage squadron into the venue just before the first dance, dressed up like you're there on the invite." He waited for Keefe to nod before continuing, "By the second dance, the Vacker boy- Fitz- will be singled out, and his sister shouldn't be too far away. Capture them both- though the girl is our priority. We need the girl as a bartering chip to get and keep the Moonlark onto our side- grabbing the boy would be a nice bonus, since he is the Moonlark's cognate, and they'd both be stronger- but the vanisher girl is weaker. She'll be easier to grab and keep under control." The General suddenly stared at Keefe intently, like he knew something was coming and he didn't want to miss the show, "If you can't get the boy, kill him on the spot." Fintan's evil eyes flashed with sickening delight as he leaned forward across the desk and whispered into Keefe's ear, "And I want you to be the one to do it."

Keefe's heart pounded, capturing, he could do, he could keep them safe, and though he didn't have all of his emotions back yet, he knew that he couldn't live with himself if he let one of his once friends die. As cooly as he could, he asked, "Are you sure we have to kill him?" His once best friend.

Fintan nodded, "If anyone could save the girl and the Moonlark, it would be him. He would be the Black Swan's," he said the opposing rebel group's name like a revolting disease, "best chance at finding them and taking them back." The villain had a point. "So will you do it?" He taunted, "Will you capture your old friends, maybe even kill a few... show them what you've become-- be the cause of what they'll become in our plans-"

Stupidly, his emotions overwhelmed him, and Keefe burst out, "No!" Nanoseconds after, he realized what he had done was wrong, that if he had been able to keep his emotions under wraps, he might have been able to find a way to save them, and that now... he was a goner... there would be no one on the Neverseen's side to save his friends now. A few more nanoseconds later, he realized that this had been Fintan's goal ever since he messed up the plans to attack Biana's Winnowing Gala, to ween him off the blasts so he could get him to choke.

"That's exactly what I thought," the general purred, as Keefe started to turn to run. The guards outside the door caught the icy blue eyed teen, and held him fast as he struggled like a fly stuck on flypaper. Pathetically, hopelessly, desperately... and yet no avail. So Keefe stopped, let himself be dead weight as the guards started to drag him by his arms to the darkest corner of the basement- the poles. This was it. This was the end-for real now. At one time, he had thought the end was when he was pulled into the Neverseen out of fear for his friends' safety, now, he knew better. It all seemed so silly and small back then, compared to now. This was the end of Keefe Sencen.

The final chapter, the last scene, the ending lines. After this, there would be no more of that bright eyed boy prodigy who skipped out on classes at the most prestigious school in the Lost Cities to pull pranks and to just goof off. There would be no more of that blond haired boy who had a photographic memory, and could draw things in great detail. There would be no more of that smiling boy who teased and pinned after a girl who could only love another guy. There would be no more of the ultimate cups-on-back stacker, or anyone to urge for Sophie to use the pink splotcher when splotching tournaments took place in school. There would be no more of the boy who was overly protective of his friends and sought the love of his cold hearted parents. There would be no more of that boy who use to save the world. There would be no more of Keefe Sencen, the boy who gave up his whole life and morals to protect his friends.

They would do fine without him, they all hated him now anyways. After he started getting the blasts and sneaking off to fulfill the Neverseen's orders, it had all gone downhill. His last clear thought of goodness was the time he found Biana's favorite lipstick color- a rare one even- and hid it in her locker, as a quiet way to repay her for all the pain he caused the poor girl- a quiet way to quench the hunger of the guilt that use to rest on his mind before the blasts. Keefe didn't mind that they hated him though- he couldn't blame him. He would hate him to- and ever since his emotions started coming back, he did.

He had been a fool, trying to be the bigger figure of power and take care of the weighing problem's over he and his friends' heads. He should have gotten help- he should have done this the right way, with the Black Swan, and taken some risks so that he wouldn't solely take on the burden of the casualties of this mess. So that one day in the future, he could've lived a normal life as a normal elf with his friends. So that one day in the future, they could all be together again, without impeding thoughts of war dictating their lives. So that one day, he could have been happy.

His feet and shins scraped against the ground as he was dragged along, though he prefered that over being tied up to the nearest empty pole for sure. Keefe tugged at the restraints, though he knew it was hopeless, and looked at all the other mindless victims of the poles, who were kept at the pole they had received that final blast at when they weren't needed- like animals. They smiled at them with mindlessly vicious grins plastered on their faces that almost said, Yes! Yes! Join us! Yes! Keefe's stomach felt sick, and he could feel the sweat from his brow running down his face. He didn't want to be like them. The giant, cannon-sized ray gun was rolled over to him, and pointed in his direction as it slowly fired up, it's speed matching the quickening of Keefe's breath.

The last thing he saw as he screamed no was Fintan's malicious face twisted with pleasure.

Goodbye Keefe Sencen.

---

Cassius Sencen got up from his wife's side for the first time in hours, his new duty since Keefe was away, and no one else was willing- they called her a traitor. She definitely was, but someone had to take care of her.

As he wandered the floors of this cold, empty house, wishing there was something he could do to save his family, he walked past Keefe's room, or should it be called Keefe's old room now? Cassius wasn't sure, but he opened the door anyways, just to let the nostalgia wash over him. This room was where they had set Keefe's first crib, Cassius glance over to the corner by the window and could almost see it there- in it's old spot; right next to the changing table, where Cassius had changed some of his diapers. He glanced over to the bed, still in the same spot they had put it when Keefe moved out of that polished wooden crib, and at the time they had called it a "big boy bed", which was where Keefe broke his arm for the first time after jumping on the plush surface. He had scolded his son then before calling a physician. Cassius then glanced to the desk, which was right by the door, remembering all the times he had scolded his son, who would be sitting in the chair, a quill in hand, drawing on pieces of paper when he needed to be getting his grades up. Maybe he shouldn't have scolded him so much- Maybe Keefe would've turned out different.

On the desk, he noticed, was a folded piece of parchment that after a moment of hesitation, Cassius opened. He skimmed the contents, and soon discovered that even though it was a letter for Sophie, it explained a lot- and though it was not meant for him, it broke Cassius's heart. His son had done this for them- for all of them, and now his friends hated him for it, because they didn't know.

When he finished, he just stared at the page for a few moments. All of the sudden, an idea came to him- Tomorrow was Sophie Foster's Winnowing Gala, and Cassius could give her the letter then- because it was too late now, and she'd be busy all of the day tomorrow before her Gala. Yes, that sounded like a good idea. A final chance for Cassius to redeem himself for all the wrongs he had done by Keefe- even just a little bit. A last gift to his son. It was the least he could do.