Voices filtered around the room; the crackling of the fire in the large stone fireplace gave a feeling like Bevis and Chelsea were attending a mountain retreat. The night view from the windows was breathtaking, and Bevis couldn't take her eyes away from the window. The clothes she had found in the cupboard were smart-casual but comfortable and could have been bought with her in mind.

"It's beautiful," a soft-spoken female voice said next to Bevis, startling her, "apologies, I didn't mean to scare you."

Giving a quick smile, Bevis returned her gaze to the window, "Sometimes I feel like I'm being pulled into the beauty," she whispered, giving a shrug as she glanced at the well-dressed, neat-to-a-pin medium-height woman next to her, "perhaps that sounds silly, but there is such a peace surrounding the beauty of this place ..." sighing she shook her head, "... I'm not expressing myself correctly."

"It makes you question all your life choices to this point and then challenges you to change your path," the woman said.

"Yes, that is it," Bevis said, nodding, "did it challenge you?"

"Oh yes," the woman asked, "like you, I stood here many years ago after losing my husband and children to my Grandfathers terrible decisions, questioning everything around my life choices and the path I was supposed to take ... fortunately I was able to change my path and with it the families destiny."

Bevis stilled, turning to the woman, "You're the person strangely named The Nisim," Bevis whispered, "how did you do such a thing when all your family knew was bloodshed?"

"Determination, tears, and hope," she whispered, "it wasn't easy turning the tide, and it didn't happen suddenly. But over the years, others followed, seeing my vision and the peace it brought us and others."

"Like my parents," Bevis whispered, "they seem to be trying to change the path but finding it difficult. Mom doesn't want me in the family business, but Dad realised I may need the training."

"So you're a mix," The Nisim said, "never heard of in your family's line of work."

"What is my family's line of work?" Bevis asked, so quietly the words were barely audible.

"Protections, annihilation and intelligence," The Nisim said, "they ... your parents, see a future where both sides will be required. You may not be part of the firm as Chelsea is, but you are required. You may not be able to wield violence without a thought, but you can if it's to protect those you love. You have other qualities which those thrust into that world do not."

Bevis nodded, tears gathering; clearing her throat and blinking away the emotion, she shook her head, "All of that is fantastical, but I don't fit anywhere. What use am I if I don't have a place to belong."

The Nisim stood silently for a moment watching Bevis; she felt the pain, loss, betrayal, and faint hope flickering within the young woman. Gently laying her hand on Bevis' folded arms at her waist, she smiled gently.

"Where was the last place that you felt wanted, as though you fitted in and belonged," she whispered, "think about it, and you will find where you are supposed to be. I have always found it's usually heading toward that change in the pathway of your life you long for." She glanced over her shoulder, "dinner is served."

Bevis watched her move away, quickly swiping at her wet cheeks; clearing her throat, she looked around the room to see if anyone else had noticed but found everyone else, from Chelsea to Nagid and his team and some others Bevis didn't know, intent on moving toward some immense wooden doors on the far end of the room.

"I guess that means we get to eat," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the view of the moon lighting the river below and following everyone into the vast room with the most extended wooden table Bevis had ever seen.

Everyone took a chair, leaving one open next to The Nisim. Bevis moved toward that space and slipped quietly into the chair as many people entered the room, carrying covered dishes and serving them to everyone seated. Glancing down around the table, Bevis noticed the wait staff standing behind each person's chair before stepping forward in unison and lifting the covers from the dish in front of the person seated. Bevis giggled, drawing the attention of The Nisim.

"Yes, I have to agree it's reminiscent of those romance novels based in the eighteen hundreds," The Nisim smiled, "but that is one thing I was never able to rid from my grandfather's era. Bon Appetit."

Bevis took in the dish, holding a small scrumptious-looking salad, and slowly ate.

Jerking awake to blaring alarms, Bevis jolted into a sitting position. The room door flew open, and Nagid stood in a t-shirt and track pants, looking around until he found her watching him in the gloom from the passageway light.

"We have to move," he said, "your fatigues have been cleaned and should be hanging in your closet. All the weapons have been cleaned and are in the bottom of one of these cupboards; you need to take everything with you."

"What is going on?" Bevis asked, scrambling from beneath the covers.

"There is an attack," Nagid said, sighing and shaking his head, "Josiah needs our help."

Bevis froze, whipping around to stare at him, fear and worry etched into her expression and gaze, "How bad?"

"They are holding their ground, but the forces seem to keep coming," Nagid said, "your parents are there as well as Chelsea's. They are outmanned and outgunned."

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"I'll be ready in five," Bevis said, pulling out her clothes, weapons and a gym bag.

"What are you going to do with that?" Nagid asked.

"Changing our course and destiny," Bevis said, striding into the bathroom and closing the door.

Shaking his head, Nagid turned to find Chelsea standing in her doorway, "How much did you hear?"

"Who is under attack?" she asked, rubbing her hands over her face.

"The Lands of Protection," he said, watching her still, nod and close her door, "another look of murder. I don't want to be on the end of these women."

Striding down the passageway, he called his team to order, dishing out orders and sending them flying in all directions.

"We're leaving in fifteen minutes," he called down the passageway before entering his ro

om and closing the door.

Bevis came from the bathroom in full black fatigues, her hair braided into a French plait she hadn't worn for many years. Around her waist were weapons dripping from a utility belt pulled tightly around her slender waist. Scooping up the gym bag, she strode down the passage toward the waiting security detail. Taking in the five waiting men dressed in black tracksuits, she sighed, nodded and cleared her throat.

"I'm sure you all know time is of the essence," she glanced at them before continuing, "one of you needs to take me to The Nisim wherever she is ... right now."

They looked at each other, and no one moved.

"Fine, I'll find her myself," she said, striding past them toward the house's interior where the sleep quarters and offices were found. Hurried steps followed her.

"The Nisim is sleeping at the moment," one of the details said, matching her stride.

"With all this noise and bustle," Bevis stopped, "try again."

The man shifted under the penetration of her angry glare, sighed, shook his head and indicated for her to follow him.

"I thought so," Bevis said, "and I'd better be seeing The Nisim next."

He glanced over his shoulder at her, "You're costing me my job."

"No, I won't," Bevis said, "pick up the pace."

He quickly took Bevis to double wooden doors and knocked twice before entering a large office. Bevis strode past him, taking in the view behind the large empty wooden desk and following the sudden silence to a round table. The Nisim stepped away, waving the security guard to leave the room.

"What is it?" she asked, narrowing her gaze on Bevis, who pulled out her phone and handed it to her.

"Read the text," she said, "it is ending, and they need you there."

"The Nisim does not leave these lands," one of the men at the table stated, the arrogance in his voice twanging at Bevis' last hold on her anger.

Turning to him, she stared at him, "You are an egotistical man who thinks he can dictate to those around him as he chooses. In this instance, you have no say."

"I have every right," he said, striding around the table, "as her head of security ..."

"You have no right ...." Bevis said, squaring up to him, "I am the Heir who invoked the Heir's rights, and as such, I have been handed information, and The Nisim needs to come with me to complete the decades of tyranny. Stand in my way and find out what will happen."

The man glared at her before looking past her at The Nisim, "Sabra, your decision?"

Bevis turned to see the woman staring at her in wonderment, "You remind me of your mother right now," she whispered, "who is to protect me?"

"I am," Bevis said, meeting the woman's startled gaze.

"But your training is not in that direction," Sabra said, waving a silencing hand to the others in the room, "how will you protect me?"

Swallowing hard, Bevis sucked in oxygen before she began singing softly into the stunned room.

"It cannot be," a young woman said, moving forward, "this is the one?"

"It would seem to be," Sabra said, "what did that song bring forth?"

"Memories," Bevis said, swallowing hard but unable to stop the silent tears sliding down her cheeks. Sniffing, she cleared her throat, "memories of my first mission."

"This is too much," the head of security blustered but ground out an angry groan and strode toward the window as Sabra raised a silencing hand.

"What was your first mission?" Sabra asked, her voice soft and gentle.

Bevis blinked rapidly and glanced around the room before answering, "Operation ..." she gasped at the heavy emotion slamming into her, struggling to keep herself in control, "Operation Childsong."

Sabra gasped, "No ..." she nodded determinedly before looking at the others, "I must go, and I shall be protected."

"Childsong," the head of security turned to the room, "that was a suicide mission that ended with the other side being eradicated. You did that?"

"What a stupid question?" the young woman said, "Sabra, dress ... I'll have your provisions ready."

"You need to bring the journals," Bevis said, holding out the bag, "all the journals."

"That is impossible," Sabra said, "I don't have all the journals."

"The ones you do have," Bevis said, "the rest will be in their hands before we get there."

Nodding, Sabra took the bag and disappeared behind the wooden panel, staring at it as it closed.

"Tissue," a soft voice spoke on her other side, "your face is ... wet."

"Thank you," Bevis said, taking a tissue and wiping her face, "it is all true."

"What is?" the woman asked.

"You think I made it all up," Bevis said, "your face remains calm, but the questions are in your eyes."

The woman smiled, "Take care of my Aunt, please."

"I shall," Bevis said, her attention returning to the wooden panel as it moved to one side, and a dressed Sabra with a bulging bag appeared.

"Lead the way to the end of this journey," she said, giving the two women a quick hug before turning to her head of security, "this house must not fall."

He nodded and followed her to the doorway. Bevis followed, striding behind them as they returned to the waiting team. Nagid stepped forward, frowning.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I am to go with you," Sabra said, "the heir's rights have been invoked, and I'm requested to attend to a matter of justice."

"Who is to be in your detail?" Nagid asked caution in his expression.

"I am," Bevis said, stepping forward.

"What qualifies you?" Nagid asked.

"Childsong," Sabra said, "yes ... that operation ..." she sighed, "it would seem her father's training method was indeed more effective than anyone else believed it to be."

Nagid nodded, "Then let's move. We need to get to the Protection Lands quickly."

"That is why we're being airlifted there," The Nisim said, "a friend of mine is flying in," she smiled, "follow me.