The room is about the size of my old cottage home. There’s a table dead center and hundreds more enslaved fairies dotted along the walls and ceiling like stars in the otherwise bleak grey and black stone room.

And then there are the creatures. Misshapen men. Creatures with more than one tail coming from beneath black cloaks. Teeth that stick past cowls. Most are hunched with hoods to disguise their features, but a few stand with snarls and bare, grotesque faces with nostrils instead of noses and tongues which flick out to taste the air. Some have skin covered with tiny green scales and others have black, leathery skin.

A quick count brings the number to thirty creatures, ringing in a semi-circle on the other side of the table. The table lacks any adornments, just plain wood, with five chairs, one at the head and two on either of the long sides.

The creatures part to reveal a silver cloaked person, going still and silent. Statues instead of living creatures. Do they even breath?

Then my breath is taken as a being walks between the ring of creatures, hood pulled low. The person is swathed in darkness, but the hood tips back just enough to see a rictus of a smile. The cloak is the white of the moon in the middle of the night. The tunic beneath is a color of molten silver, and that makes me want to barf, because the only person who owns that color is my Silver.

I have an uncharacteristic urge to stab the person before me and slash the tunic to shreds and stain it with blood until it’s no longer silver.

Uncharacteristic? Ran says, sarcasm making her voice extra sweet. I growl in the back of my throat.

A man in full metal armor stands behind the white-cloaked man, a broadsword at his waist. The only semi-sane looking individual here, and I can’t even see his face beneath the helm.

The cloaked man walks to the table and stands to the right of the chair with the largest back, the man in armor behind him.

“You have finally accepted my invitation to parlay, I see. Come,” the cloaked person says to Nika. In a high-pitched, almost whiny voice.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

“And you have brought me a gift. How quant. I didn’t realize the Guardian would stoop so low as to visit my humble abode.”

Triple heck and words my mother would tan my hide for thinking.

Silver steps in front of me. The creatures ringing the walls step forward in response, growling and spitting like a cat. I’ve no Rose to combat them this time. And that was only one creature such as this and it nearly killed me. Who knows what these things can do?

Rider, you must use your Gift. I can feel her. She’s coming closer.

Of course I’m going to use my Gift. The Gift bubbles up from her placid lake. Watching, waiting, anticipating.

Good.

But whatever happens-- Ran, we can’t let you fall into their hands, no matter what happens to me.

If you die, I die. Do you want this?

Can we break the bond?

Ran pulls back from me, her mind filtering through disgust, horror, and straight to furious and righteous anger like the sweeping of a red tide. No. The one word is quiet and void of any emotion. I have finally made her well and truly furious.

Ran, if I must die for you to live, then so be it.

Together, Rider. Remember? Her voice cuts me to the core. I’ve never heard her sound so broken. So furious… yet so very vulnerable. We are one. One soul, one mind, one being. Were I to split from you it would be as terrible as a tree cut from its roots. Live, for both of us. Until I get there. She growls something low and deep.

So help me, you better stay away or I will kill you!

Then stay alive and get the Eldertree forsaken fruit out of there!

That… that I can do.

When has a little thing such as odds ever stopped little ‘ol me?

I grin, twirling my knives and bracing for what’s to come.

A few of the creatures have fire flaring from their hands and others have oddly glowing eyes and plants sprouting deep beneath the surface where no sunlight penetrates.

“It took some doing, but I figured I might as well have a gift worthy of you, Candidum Imperatrix.” Madame Nika strolls forward to stand beside the woman, Gilbert at her back.

I stare at Nika, my jaw clenching, horror threading through my veins and chilling my skin. I pull two blades, wanting to ram one through Nika’s shimmering eye. “I t-trusted you,” I hiss through clenched teeth, my teeth chattering slightly as the depth of what I walked into filters into my soul.

Silver was right. So right.

The witch tsks, shaking her cowled head. She brings forward a hand, tapping blood-red fingernails to magenta lips. “Has the Guardian at last been brought to her knees? Not to worry, what we do to others comes ‘round to bite us, eventually, and you have been a thorn in the side of the Underground ever since you began sticking your nose in the wrong places. It’s time we rose to the heights we were always meant for. To rule, not only Underground, but the entirety of the city above.”

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I twirl my blades between slicking fingers, trying to find my center of calm. “It won’t work. They will stop you, with or without me.”

She throws back her hood, and her features are dainty and near flawless just as I remember, her fingernails red as freshly spilled blood, her eyes larger than a normal person and near to glittering in the lamplight from the torches along the walls. A small smile lifts her lips and she cocks her head. I remember her well, how she could seep into the mind and pull out memories. How she could be stabbed and feel no pain. How she acted like a toddler with a temper when she didn’t get her way.

I nearly smile at the last one. Get her mad… and we just might live. The last time I met her I stole her orb. Wonder if that made her angry?

“Hey, missie, you missing that little orb? It’s been a terrific nightlight, and even played a little fetch with my pooch with the thing.”

The woman growls in the back of her throat, her face turning red.

Did you just call me your pooch?

Oh, did I? My mistake. You're my kitty.

Ran growls, picturing eating my favorite stash of Jenny’s cookies.

How do you even know where those are, you cabwallet!

I am always with you.

That’s not creepy at all, I retort, tongue in cheek and holding back a smile. My hands have stopped shaking and my mind is clearer. Thanks, beaut.

My pleasure. Now live!

Your orders are my command, I shoot back with a lazy inner salute.

The white-cloaked woman is still seething, but then a slow smile grows on her face and her eyes glow.

Now that’s creepy, Ran mutters.

I’m in full agreement.

“Oh, you poor dear. You truly don’t understand the half of it, do you? Don’t fear, you will be gone from this plane before you ever need worry your pretty little head over the change in leadership. I no longer need the little orb which cost my father hundreds of souls. Risia has been flailing, she needs a new guide to challenge her and bring her into a bright new world in conjunction with the others. A time is coming when all the worlds will be linked once more, and my father will rule Irisia into the dawn of a new age.”

Dread turns my stomach and my hands tingle with adrenaline. “Who is your father?”

“Oh, darling, don’t you remember?” She cleans out her long, law-like fingernails, not looking at me. “You sent him packing with his tail tucked between his legs. He is not able to return just yet--the Master had some things to discuss--so he sent me. How lucky you are, and how happy he shall be to know the little girl who brought him to his knees is… gone.” She flicks her eyes up, the dark amber burning with vile hatred.

Silver growls at my side, and I flick a glance at him as he fingers a blade.

“My father will lead us into a beautiful new world where all may live in harmony—”

“Get out of here,” he says, barely moving his lips.

“No, you idiot. You need to go. They want me.” They won’t stop. But Silver needs information to take away from this in use of the war, even if I don’t make it. “Listen and listen well, Silver.” At the dark surety in my voice, his eyes actually flicker to me from the creatures along the walls and the woman currently ranting about a new world. “I’m going to be taken. Ask Jill about her love and find him. He’ll have the information you need, just get him away from his father. And ask Hans about the sprites. They have something you need to keep from this witch. You need to save this city and protect my family, even if I don’t make it. Please,” I whisper, begging him with my entire soul.

“Even now, my army gathers, awaiting with bated breath when they shall return, triumphant in a world they may call their own—”

“How can you ask me that?” Silver whispers, his eyes narrowing and knuckles bleaching on his black and silver blades. His eyes turn bright blue, and in that moment I know. In that moment, I see him. I see the first time I met him, a prince I thought loathsome and haughty, standing up for a common girl trying to become his Protector. And in the midst of my final battle, I smile.

“Because you are the prince of two worlds and a Protector of both. You will always hold my heart, whether in this world or the next. Now go.” I connect to my Gift, knowing Ran is right.

I doubt I’m making it out of here this night. A part of me—a big part which is in harmony with her—is grateful to my Gift. She helps me survive, helps me even when I don’t know I need help… but another part of me wonders what the point is at all. People still fight, bicker, and kill. They still don’t have enough food and riots are breaking out all across the city. Would what little I’m doing help anything at all? The world isn’t changing because of one small girl. Am I only prolonging the inevitable? Is it better to just... stop?

Irisia and Beulah itself would be clay in the hands of evil if not for you, rider. The King has placed you here for a reason, even if you can’t see it yet.

I connect with my Gift, reaching out, touching the fairies, knowing if I can free them, it will take much of their power away. As I do, I touch the life force of the twisted and broken creatures around me. They are so… broken. Shells of what they once were. Feelings of inadequacy, fear, and despair rise within.

I try, beaut. I try so hard. To fight. To keep going. To smile. To save those I love and protect this city. But all I get in return is more pain, more sorrow, and greater responsibilities and a hole within that reminds me of the girl I used to be… and who is no longer there. I’m different. That girl died. And now… I am but a shell that somehow keeps living. But sometimes… I just want to give up. To stop. Wouldn’t it be easier to just… die?

I connect with the blackened and encrusted threads and feel a hate and loathing and wrongness pour over me like a tidal wave. They have little orbs above them and I find where the orbs are in slavery, and one by one, I try to free them. But the chords are… strong. They’re silvery and threaded with a blackened husk that I cannot break, even as I feel Silver stab someone and their thread disappears. I’m shoved to the side, landing on my hands and knees as hot, searing flame flies past me. Tears pool in my eyes as I know what I must do.

Why must I be the tool for such destruction? I’d rather die myself.

Rider, her voice is calm, serene, and filled with emotion. There will come a time when all this makes sense. But wait for me. Don’t you dare let them kill you before I get there! She growls, long and sure.

I focus on the threads between me and the blackened husks of creatures… something is screaming in the physical world even as I gather the threads together and bunch them tightly, and then I take a large axe and sever them. The witch fights me, and she saves herself and the one behind her by a thread. The one behind her, the one who is in armor, reaches for me, the thread feeling… familiar. Like the warmth of the fire in the cottage where I grew up.

But before I can puzzle out why, the witch savagely jerks the armored one’s thread back to her and puts a wall between us, severing our connection.

I blink and return to the real world, on my hands and knees, warm blood dribbling from my nose and rolling over my lips and numbness seeping through my chest.

Will there come a time when all this killing will be for a reason? Or am I striving to survive in a world that will never see the light of what is right? I ask anything that will hear.

Empathy is not easy. Empathy requires a heart that is not afraid of pain. A soul that has not been broken beyond care. And a mind willing to fight for what others ignore. It is what enables others to find their healing and spread beyond what a single person can ever hope to achieve. That is your legacy, my sister. That is why you fight.