Sam followed Carl through the passages with the leather-clad warrior leading the way. She still didn't know who he was or why he was there, but she was glad to have him making their task more manageable. Sounds of conflict came to their ears, and a sudden scream had them racing through the last part of the tunnels bursting into a large cave. Sam glanced around, allowing her training to kick in, and her instinct surged to the surface.

"Be careful," she called, "we don't know how many are in here."

Carl eased to a brisk walk as their leather-bound warrior spun in a circle looking for the enemy. Finding none, he eased himself toward the shadows as he glanced toward Carl and Sam.

"He is here," Rilea called, "and he is armed."

"Protect Rilea," Sam said, meeting Batair's angry gaze, "you let nothing happen to her."

"What of Andriette?" he asked his words hardly above a whisper.

"Since he is armed," Sam said, "it falls to Carl and me to deal with him. Stay within your restrictions."

Carl glanced at Sam nodding his agreement as she focused on a point in the darkness while Batair eased into the shadows working his way toward his queen's voice.

"What is his mission?" Sam called the question in the dim light pulling a flare from her belt as she walked in Rilea's direction.

"I believe it's to …" Rilea's words trailed off as a gasp came to their ears, "don't hurt her ... please leave Andriette alone."

"Ah, it has been made clear; he is here on a mission to either kidnap or kill Andriette," Sam said, signalling for Carl to move in a circle away from her position, "but he will not succeed."

"Of course, I will," the voice boomed around the space, making it difficult to pinpoint; Sam closed her eyes, closing out the reverb made by the cave and focused on the point of origin; opening her eyes again, she locked onto where he was standing. Loading her flare in the gun as she continued to move around the space, "you will not succeed."

Sam grinned at the confidence oozing over the words, "You think there is another way out but through me?"

"You must be Sam Headrow," the snarl hissed across the space, "I knew your father; he had the same deluded confidence when it came to the Tenderhooks, so confident that we would be stopped, ended annihilated … it was a good day when he was taken out of the equation, and it will be a good day when you are as well."

"I'm sure you heard him say something about being designed to survive," Sam said, adjusting her path before continuing, "it must have maddened you that he could not die."

She adjusted her position again, keeping silent and quickly moving across the space, aware of every rock and stone under her feet; easing to the balls of her feet, she moved lightly over the obstacles. In the dank murkiness, she could make out a beefy form of the last Tenderhook holding the barrel of his gun against Andriette's head; he heaved in anger at her words.

"He was a thorn in my side every time he said them," the words hissed into the cave, "the last time he said them, he included your mother. Always was it "I" with him until that moment; the last time he spoke those words, he said "we," but they both died as will you."

Looking down at the flair gun, Sam whispered, "Restore what has been snuffed by the darkness that good and truth may prevail and win."

"I'm not giving up my vantage point," he said, "you might as well show yourself and prepare to die."

"May my aim be true," Sam whispered, "may my father's words come true; we are designed to survive, but I add another line …" she steadied her aim, "we are designed to survive and serve."

Shooting the flair gun above their heads, Sam ducked as the gun turned in her direction, firing at her. Spinning out of the line of fire as she flattened herself against nearby rocks, she waited. The flare thudded into the rock face above the heads of the tense trio, and a rich, bursting sound warped through the air as every torch blazed to light around them. The leather-clad warrior moved across the remaining space grasping Rilea and spinning them away from the frozen form of Andritte and her captor; the gun turned in their direction. Batair stepped in front of Rilea, shielding her from harm as Sam and Carl moved in to engage with the last of the evil line that had tormented their lives, their families and humanity for decades.

Sam saw him shake his head as the gun turned between them at different locations. Surprise rode his gaze as he blinked at the lights; his furious gaze looked between them as he turned his weapon in Carl's direction, aiming and firing. The reverb of the shot echoed through the air as the bullet missed its target and embedded itself in the rock. Sam gasped, anger racing through her as she felt something break free, and she ran towards the pair, increasing her speed before he could fire another shot into this sacred place. Sam extended her hands, slamming them into the extended arm and wrenching it backwards. The cry of pain and anger followed, making the man who orchestrated her parent's murder and her own release Andriette. Turning against the arm, she used the momentum to spin herself and his body, keeping the speed of her enemy's body slamming into the cave wall. The gunshot surprised everyone before it dropped from the limp hand. Sam watched as his body slowly sank to the floor, waiting for her to act further, but it didn't move. Carl slowly touched two fingers to the pulse point against the thick neck, shaking his head after a minute or two. Sam gasped and staggered when turning to the hushed, urgent tones behind her. Rilea knelt beside Andriette, trying to staunch the blood oozing from her side.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Carl, give me the kit," Sam said, "quickly; there is still time."

Catching the folded canvas, she raced to Andriette's side, looking into the woman's eyes.

"I am here to assist the one who designed me," Sam whispered. "do I have your permission to serve you?"

Andriette cupped Sam's cheek and smiled, "Yes, you may serve me."

Nodding, Sam pulled a knife from her belt and cut away the material on the bloody side, "Grasp Rilea's hand and remember to breathe," she whispered, pouring water from her canteen over the area and looking into the wound, "it seems the bullet went through, and I don't see anything vital hit," glancing at the panting woman she sighed, "I can either stitch the wounds or …" she pulled away her shirt at the shoulder, "I can place patches over your wounds and allow the infirmary to serve you."

"Patch me," Andriette said, "it is all I require."

"Andriette, are you certain?" Rilea asked, frowning at her friend.

"I am," Andriette nodded to Sam to continue, "I too was designed to survive …" she whispered, "and I continued the work of my family. I will live."

Sam pulled a sheet of skin from her shoulder, placing one on the front and another over the back wound, wincing as Andriette groaned, releasing Rilea's hand and reaching for Sam's. Clasping the woman's hand in her own, Sam waited.

"Your father's words included you," Andriette panted, "not your mother."

"I don't understand," Sam whispered, "what do you mean?"

Andriette tapped an area in the hollow of Sam's collarbone, "In here are two discs," she whispered, "it was what saved your father's life when I worked on you and your mother. The second was from your mother; they had me plant them in you before they were killed. They knew you needed it more than they did. That is how you defended yourself, how you have survived and how those who protected you knew you were the key to our protection."

Sam frowned as she took in words, "Carl knew?"

Andriette nodded, "Garan tasked him with protecting our people on the outside," she gasped and clutched her side, "your patches are strong."

"Let me get you to the infirmary," Sam whispered, "you need more help."

"I am fine to complete this final task," Andriette whispered, "then you may assist me."

"What final task?" Rilea asked.

"Handing my knowledge to the one who will succeed me," Andriette said, "my time to the council is near."

"You do not leave us, do you?" Rilea asked, her eyes filling with tears.

"No, my friend," she smiled, slowly pushing into a sitting position, "I remain with our people."

Rilea braced her friend against her, swiping at her face, "We simply have to wait for Cherry to complete her journey."

"Yes, and your sister to depart the cave," Andriette said, "I hope that Cherry completes the journey without ..." she gasped as she shifted, easing her position a little before continuing, "finding the last leg offensive."

"It may be different for her," Rilea said, "remember we don't know what the other's journeys have been like or what they were requested to endure to complete it."

"This is true," Andriette smiled, "so … we wait?"

"We wait," Rilea said.

Cherry felt stiff; they had been standing in the same position for what seemed like an age; if she didn't move soon, she didn't think she could.

"I know, the pain is becoming too much," whispered her sister, "I have no feeling in my feet."

"Neither do I," Cherry whispered, "My hand is burning against your neck."

"I, too, feel your burning neck," she replied.

In unison, their eyes opened, looking into the depths of the other. They slowly moved apart, dropping the hands from each neck and flexing the hand in unison.

"Is this supposed to happen?" Cherry asked.

"I know not," Sherry said, shaking her head, "the journeys are never spoken about afterwards."

Nodding in unison, they turned to the altar, each placing their hot hands on the golden surface, which glowed more than before and began to warp as sections fell into indentations.

"What is that?" Sherry asked, "I don't know that language."

"I do," Cherry grinned, "it's one of them that I majored in my degree."

"I have no idea what you just said," Sherry said, shaking her head, "you'll need to explain it to me after all this."

"That would be wonderful," Cherry smiled, "now … let's see what the altar wants us to do."

The pair looked down at the altar as Cherry began to read, "Para completar a túa viaxe admite a túa debilidade e anhela saber todas as cousas."

"What does that mean?" Sherry asked.

"Something I think we both need to wish for," Cherry said, "it means … To complete your journey admit your weakness and yearn to know all things."

"I agree with you," Sherry said, "we both need to admit our weaknesses and yearn to know everything."

"What are your weaknesses?" Cherry asked.

"I have no control over my yearnings of the foods I eat," Sherry whispered, "we're supposed to eat a certain way to stay pure …" she sighed, "all I want to do is eat the nice things your mother bakes and brings to our Aunt."

"I can understand that," Cherry smiled, "it must taste delicious."

"Melts in your mouth," Sherry sighed, "what is your weakness?"

Cherry frowned, "I have doubted myself my entire life," she sighed, "no matter how much I've told myself to follow my instinct, I struggle to do just that."

"You are not alone," Sherry whispered, "now you have me to tell you that you can do whatever task you set before you."

"Thank you," Cherry said, "I'm sure we have many more, but what about wanting to know everything."

"It may be a good thing," Sherry said, frowning as the words began to swirl, "we do need to know all things … what is happening?"

They watched the surface glow in unison before folding over their hands and drawing each deeper.

"Can you feel that?" Cherry gasped.

"Yes," Sherry panted, "we're in this together, remember … breath and how you put it … go with the flow."

"Those are the words … and breathe," Cherry said, panting as sensation began to swirl through them, "and hold on to something."