That night Caroline had not slept. She had only lain in the dark, staring at the ceiling, trying to force sleep but unable to find rest. As the first glimmers of light fell through the window she got up and washed herself as thoroughly as she could. Then she slipped into the grey-brown overall that had been laid out for her. It had been brought by the same woman who had brought some food. She seemed to be human, had rushed in and out without a word. Without even looking at her.

She was to be picked up at eight in the morning. The way to the throne room would take some time and she was to wait in a small side chamber until the trial began. When everyone had arrived, she would be ushered in and would be given the opportunity to present and defend her side of the story.

Caroline was shivering, but the cold water had little to do with it. After scrubbing her teeth some more, she turned to her mental hygiene. She had never liked meditating and did not consider herself spiritual or religious. Breathing and some mindfulness exercises, however, she had often found helpful. Not this time.

She had paid attention to what she perceived for the fifth time, but panic kept threatening to overwhelm her, to bury her under towering black waves. Finally she gave up and paced the room until finally the door opened.

Damien, followed by Rebekka stepped in and looked at her with a furrowed brow.

"Have you slept?"

"What does it look like?" she asked, more stroppy than intended. She closed her eyes and massaged the root of her nose with her middle finger and thumb.

"I'm sorry. I ..." But she didn't know what to say. I'm being sentenced to death today, it doesn't matter anymore, seemed a bit dramatic.

"It's all right." He sounded reserved, but didn't seem angry.

If Caroline had any capacity for other feelings besides panicked fear, she would be grateful to them and to Daniel. The three vampires had stayed over two hours the previous day to answer her questions. Some things they had been able to elaborate on to her complete satisfaction, on other questions they had kept very general.

Perhaps it was pity that had driven them to help her? Maybe it was guilt ? Or they believed her and felt she deserved a chance to avoid death at the stake. Whatever the reason, at some point their patience had been exhausted and the three had left her with their thoughts.

For the first few hours, that hadn't been too bad. Caroline had been busy trying to think of a strategy that might persuade the majority of the parliament to at least not accuse her of premeditation. When she was satisfied with this, she had begun to talk through the sentences and to imagine counter-reactions.

Bit by bit, she had become aware of how little she could estimate what was coming. Her thoughts had kept drifting to what she could expect after the trial. Even in the best case scenario, she could not imagine a positive future. She had also thought of Isy and how the girl might find her place here. Concern for her own fate did not permit these thoughts for long. Little by little, her thoughts had descended into a downward vortex that had pulled her deeper and deeper into darkness.

"It's time." Rebekka said tersely, holding up a rope.

"Is this necessary?" asked Caroline weakly, but held out her hands obediently. Of course it was. She was sure the whole trial was already part of the punishment. And humiliation was certainly a relevant part.

They walked down a long corridor, passed a busy kitchen and stepped out into the courtyard. The throne room and the sick rooms were at opposite ends of the castle. As they stepped outside, Caroline looked up at the sky. She stopped in amazement, the sight was overwhelming!

She knew from yesterday's conversation that vampires did indeed have a problem with sunlight and that was why there was a protective shield over the entire island. Huge pillars rose at regular intervals, sometimes dozens, sometimes over three hundred feet high, spread over the entire 66 square miles of the island.

On the small platforms at the top were powerful lasers. These emitted a shimmering light over the entire area that neutralised part of the UV-A radiation of the sunshine. Since the lethal frequency was only a tiny fraction of the light, the shields did not noticeably affect the temperature or the colours below.

It looked as if they were inside a giant crystal. The voids between the columns seemed to be filled with a rainbow-like shimmering liquid. She was so impressed that she blanked out where they were going. It was only when a large hand placed itself on her shoulder and gently forced her onwards that she turned her attention back to the paved path in front of her.

Suddenly something jumped to her feet from the right and she almost lost her balance. A boy, about eight years old, had shot out of a doorway holding a large paper kite. A second child, a slightly younger girl, followed him at full speed.

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"'Scuse me!" the boy shouted, half-turning his body and waving. "We're in a hurry!"

"We're in a hurry!" repeated the girl breathlessly, stopping short and nodding vigorously to show how much of a hurry she was in!

"COME ON!" the boy shouted, slowing down a little so the little one could catch up.

"Well hurry up then!" called Damien after him. "And hold on tight to the string! Otherwise you'll be climbing the tree yourself this time, mate!"

The two children laughed happily at him and wildly ran on.

Where the hell have I ended up here?

The situation could not have been more paradoxical for Caroline. How was it possible that these children could be happy and free of fear?

It wasn't just the children. When they met people, recognisable by their beige, brown or grey clothes, they did not seem unhappy. No, they talked, laughed and went about their daily lives as if nothing was exceptional.

One group of three people even had a relaxed conversation with a vampire of the Guard. One of them was a woman with a small baby in a sling. The vampire seemed to ask about the tiny human and the woman proudly showed the peacefully sleeping little face. Only incomprehensible words reached Caroline, but the sight shook her to the core. Without warning, Damien stretched out his arm and she ran against it.

"What ..." she looked ahead and saw that she had almost fallen down a small flight of three steps.

"Oh thank you," she muttered. She could just about do with a scraped chin or a bleeding nose. Her hands were bound in front instead of behind her back, but the chances of catching herself safely with them were still very limited.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he observed.

"The woman with the child ... How can ...?" She failed to put into words what was bothering her, but he seemed to understand.

"Caroline, we are not monsters." He sighed and looked deep into her eyes. "Many of our laws and rules are just as much for you as they are for us. The majority of the people here wouldn't want to leave at all, even if they could. And not," he made a throwing away hand gesture when she tried to interrupt him. "out of habit or because they've been brainwashed, but because they're doing well here. Better than they would be in most other parts of the world. Better than they were at home before we took them."

She thought about his words as they walked on. If he had told her this a few hours ago, she would have thought his words were fairy tales. However, her observations matched his claims.

The small room where she had to wait was right next to the throne room in the main building. There was no one yet in the great hall in front of it to secure a seat for the spectacle. She knew that the entire Parliament and the King would be present. In addition, the more senior members of the public, their escorts and members of the Guard were allowed to attend.

There were currently 1,158 vampires and a little over 15,500 humans living on the island. She expected a lot of spectators.

Rebekka did not enter the room, but said a curt goodbye. She even gave Caroline a tentative awkward pat on the arm. Damien stayed at her side.

The room was comfortably furnished. There was an old open fireplace and comfortable wing chairs arranged around a low table. There were landscape paintings on the wall, but there was no window. Damien had settled into an armchair, his hands folded and his eyes following her every move.

"How are you feeling?"

How do you think I feel? She considered for a moment if the question deserved an answer. He sounded sincere and she couldn't afford to upset an ally. She sat down too and decided to be frank.

"I'm scared," she replied with a lump in her throat, focusing on a spot on the wall opposite. "Have you spoken to the king since our conversation yesterday?" She hadn't really wanted to ask that question, but couldn't help herself. As far as their leader and the elders were concerned, all three had held back on going deeper.

"Yes."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him my impressions," he let her know a few seconds later. "And with that, please leave the subject alone."

He abruptly leaned forward and looked at her. "Stop worrying your head about what others think."

His voice sounded, she searched for the right word, urgent! He sounded as if it was personally important to him that she made an innocent impression. She wondered what was at stake for him in all this.

"From now on, concentrate fully on making it clear that you acted out of reflex. That you couldn't hurt a fly and just panicked." He added.

She nodded and could not withstand his demanding gaze for long. As if she would even manage to get a word out? She broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of pacing the hall, all eyes hateful towards her, and swallowed hard.

It was usually no problem for her to speak in front of people, to inspire them and carry them away. Storytelling was a gift that had made her a good salesperson and successful as such. Without exception, however, the most important thing about telling a story was attitude. If the inner attitude is driven by fear or doubt, it will leak out.

The less important the concrete success of a conversation was to her, the calmer she could go into it. She was then able to absorb what the other person was saying, read the room, tie threads together, be creative, use humour to lighten the mood and find solutions.

This situation however was anything but normal. She felt nothing but fear. Panic and the urgent need to beg everyone who crossed her path not to kill her in agony. How the fuck could she turn that off?

A thought forced itself out of the depths of her memories. Perhaps she still had one last trump card. So far, she had not been willing to pull it. It would be painful. Unbearably excruciating.

When, in recent weeks, she had come to the conclusion that taking her own life was a distinct possibility, the loss of her job was not the reason. A horrific incident in her past had resulted in a series of stupid and self-destructive decisions that had ultimately led her to the abyss. She had pushed that incident to the farthest corner of her mind and ruthlessly suppressed any thought of it.

If she wanted to avoid the worst with a clear head, everything that was at stake had to become unimportant to her. She had to be indifferent to her life and her integrity. To get to that point mentally, she would have to dive into that old repressed memory.

She would have to go through each agonising moment, bring all the repressed trauma to the surface and relive it. If she spent the next hour doing that, the trial of her death sentence would probably not even elicit a weary yawn in direct comparison. It was the only way to trick her psyche.

Caroline threw all aspects into the balance and made a decision.