You do realize, my Love," Zan paused, contently studying her profile as she gazed out into the horizon, "how auspicious it was that I happened to see you, standing above me, on those cliffs?"

"Do you believe so?" she replied demurely.

Ava's shoulders raised slightly and then fell back as she exhaled slowly. She had been subdued for most of the evening, which was very uncharacteristic for his bride. Zan felt restless, wanting to ease the thoughtful expression that seemed to weigh upon her flawless face. "I believe that if the Unseen truly exists, I have much to thank Him for deeming me worthy of your affections." He slipped his arms around her thin waist, nestling his lips against a mixture of skin and hair.

"Zan will you love me for eternity?"

He muttered an incoherent answer into her neck as he attentively applied feather light kisses upon her neck and shoulder. Ava slipped from his grasp, and Zan found himself eye to eye with a determined woman, set on receiving a straight answer. Zan licked his lips and furrowed his brow, unable to comprehend where these feelings were coming from. "Of course," he answered without hesitation. "I will love you until I breathe my last breath."

Her light blue, almost crystal clear eyes were hooded by her long silver lashes. Turning away from him, Zan was at a loss for words. Where was all of this coming from?

"My Love, what is troubling you?"

"Nothing," she said, barely above a whisper.

Zan gently spun her around until she was face to face with him, the golden rays of the sun lighting her already resplendent face. "You are my wife," he said, resting his forehead against hers. "And there is nothing I treasure more."

Unexpectedly, tears welled up from her searching eyes, and she grasped the collar of his tunic. "Please never leave my side," Ava pleaded, with an urgency that sent a shiver down his spine. He nodded, trying to think of a way to comfort her in her sudden distress.

"Of course."

"And never send me from your side...?"

This request set him back, causing him to pause briefly. It was an unusual request. "I would not do such a thing," he brushed her a strand of her hair from her face, carefully choosing his words, "unless protocol merit it."

Ava stiffened. "Do not force me to leave you, Zan." Again an urgency laced her words.

"Ava, you understand royal protocol as well as I do," he said calmly, stroking her hair. "It cannot be helped."

"Zan," her voice cracking, almost on the verge of tears, "please."

Zan glanced down, now realizing how tightly she was gripping his collar, before meeting her gaze, which seemed to swirl with hidden torment and fear. Cupping her face in his hands, he lowered his head, kissing her with an unexpected passion, wanting to encompass the entirety of his love for her in this one single act. He pulled away slightly, to catch his breath, their eyes still locked upon one another. "I will always love you." He placed a soft kiss upon her lips. "And I will never be far from you."

Max rolled his head to the side, his gaze falling upon Isabel's still unmoving form. Closing his eyes, he tried to absorb the details and meaning of the emotions he was flooded with, as these memories seemed to be flooding back at an accelerated rate. He felt beads of perspiration trickle down his forehead and his hands become cold and clammy.

He wasn't quite sure if this was the side effects of recalling his past or whether he truly had spent too much of his energy. In his mind, Max was amazed he hadn't faltered after that power display in the desert; he was reminded of the Christmas miracles he had performed at Roswell General three Christmas' ago - it had almost drained him completely. Now if clammy hands and slight perspiration was the only side effect, he would take it.

He would need to remember a lot more if he was to help his people.

"Keep going," Tess instructed, trailing slightly behind Michael, who was leading their small 'army'. "There should be an crack along the left-hand side of the wall and a keypad camouflaged into the wall." She briefly brushed her forehead with the back of her hand, that had a thin layered mixture of dust and sand, which formed a muddy concoction that was now smeared on both surfaces. "If you wave your hand across it, the keypad should glow green."

Tess licked her dry lips. The air in the passageway was musty and dry, as if no fresh air had been circulated through the dim passageway in decades. As she surveyed her surroundings, more and more of it seemed familiar and her ability to recall directions and hidden entrances was quickly resurfacing. If she tried, Tess imagined she could possibly remember more of her past - given the time.

"Your Highness." Yasu's low distinctive voice startled her from behind, causing her spin around and lock gazes with the intense officer.

"Yes?"

"Find your son and let us complete the mission."

"That isn't the plan," Tess frowned.

"Find him." His tone suggested that his words were more of a warning, than advice.

Suddenly an opening appeared within the tunnel's wall halting Tess from questioning Yasu further on his strange command. She followed closing behind Michael, as he singled silently with a slight movement of his hand.

Find him.

"What are you telling me?" Khivar growled, as he stared down a quivering messenger, sent by Architect Sanome. Everything had been going so well up to this point. His subjects were happy and pliant; they suspected nothing.

"There was a slight glitch in the field generator, which caused a small hole in plasma field to evaporate." Hearing it the second time, did not make it sound any better.

"How did this happen?" He managed to keep himself from blasting the worthless miscreants from his sight, knowing that this slight blip in his plan could lead to something much larger.

He would not take any chances. Not now.

"Sir, the architects believe that there might have been a slight break in the fiberoptic cables of the generator."

Khivar knew that there had to be more to it than that. Since he had the plasma field installed he had never seen or heard of a mishap such as this. There had to be something else...And he would find out exactly what it was. He took a deep breath and through clenched teeth instructed the officer, "Go and take a team of four or five guards and make sure..."

Khivar watched the officer sprint down the long marble hall. Once the small grey figure disappeared behind the doors, he glanced over his shoulder, his attention was captured by the festive music that played out on the palace grounds where voices were lifted in loud celebration. He knew if there was going to be a twelfth hour resurrection of the 'Royal Four' it would be in the next few hours. Khivar walked out onto the balcony and peered down upon his subjects, who were enamored in the luxurious expanse of festivities that they did not notice their Lord and King surveying them. All seemed calm.

Now he knew something was very wrong.

Nicholas paced back and forth within the small hidden compartment, where a thin translucent wall allowed him to peer into the interrogation room, which held the last servant to have seen Ava, whom they suspected knew exactly where the Loyalist base camp was. Barak had Medgio on the edge; beads of sweat were forming on the epidermis of the pale skinned butler. It pleased him that his prot�g� did not restrict the methods of interrogation with the elderly Loyalist. When it was reported to him that Barak had left the lifeless body of Maia in the cell of the prisoner, Nicholas couldn't have been more proud. He had been having his doubts about the officer...There was just something about him. But this had put his doubts aside.

"Now where is it old man?" Barak blared in his ear. "You know that it is just a matter of time until we drag it out off another prisoner." Nicholas watched as the commander pressed his hand against the vulnerable prisoner's throat. "This would just save you the pain and agony of a long, slow torturous death."

They had been at this for several hours. It only seemed now that Medgio seemed to finally understand what was at stake. Victory seemed to be in their sights.

Nicholas had not expected the Loyalist to break; but after a long grueling session of torture and pushing the prisoner to the brink of death, the Kedran seemed more pliable - more willing to be of assistance. The stray Antarian, whom he had reluctantly agreed to recruit, was worth his weight in mesnya if he managed to make the stubborn prisoner talk. Just then, Nicholas' eye was caught by the slow deliberate movement on Barak's part. The Kedran, with much effort, motioned his dependable commander to lower his ear.

Could it be? Could this finally be it?

Michael carefully charted his way through the minefield of guards that roamed the corridors. As they exited the secret passageway, he scanned his surroundings realizing they were in the western most wing of the palace. The pillared columns loomed above him - twenty-foot long, silk, black banners draped from the balcony above - as they crept past the massive interior courtyard. In the shadows of the pillars and fabric, Michael led his team to the northeast corner of the room, where there was a narrow chamber that was unnoticeable to the naked eye.

"All right, we're in." He pressed the plastic switch on the round ball he pulled from his knapsack, illuminating the dusty chamber decorated with streams of glistening cobwebs. "We are only a few feet away from the stairwell that will lead us to the generator," Michael explained to the group, pointing out just exactly where they stood on the blueprints, which he had managed to condense into a palm-sized sheet of paper.

"Then what are we huddled within this dark chamber for?" Lt. Siothrun grunted, shifting away from the group and towards the door.

"Because I want no mistakes," Michael hissed, turning his gaze upon the impatient soldier. He turned to Tess, who had been unusually quiet since they had stepped within the palace walls, and studied her distracted expression. "You all right?"

Tess seemed startled by the question. "Uh...w-what?" she stammered, touching her hand to her forehead. Michael's chest tightened as he watched a woman, who had been the sole driving force for this 'reckoning', look lost for a brief moment in time. "No." Just then her eyes seemed to sharpen and focus. "I know what I need to do." Her gaze lifted to meet his, and then passed him, as if there was something behind him other than the walls of the palace.

"Everything is to go as planned." His teeth clenched in determination, setting his focus on the task ahead. Michael had to trust that whatever was on Tess' mind would be left behind, as they had an overwhelmingly insurmountable mission that would most likely end in their deaths.

And of course that is a thought that should be running through your head.

Michael closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. He had a feeling that this would be the last time he would have the chance.

"Your Highness," Quirinius called urgently. "I have two incoming aircrafts headed towards the Fold."

Fadilia spun around and with a steady gaze she asked the question that made the whole room grow quiet. "Is it them?" she whispered. Striding over to the console, which the young officer was hunched over, she rested her hand upon his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Is it an Ithmarian aircraft?"

"There are two, your Highness," Emine repeated quietly.

Fadilia's heart raced. Who could it be?

"Your Highness, one is of Ithmarian origin."

Fadilia's heart leaped. There was only one ship that would chance the danger-fraught voyage towards Mount Freiweils. Zan and Vilandra had come home to her.

"But the other your Highness..."

Quirinius' voice brought her focus back to the present. "What is it?" she asked with trepidation. The apprehension in his voice alerted some internal alarm. The joyous news of the Ithmarian carrier also seemed to have brought with it adversity.

"It's one of the royal air fleet."

"Is it ahead of the Ithmarian carrier?" Fadilia gripped the soldier's shoulder tighter.

"No, but Khivar's ship is closing in fast."

"Open the landing for the Ithmarian ship." Fadilia turned and summoned Emine to her side. "You must go and secure our people below," she said, firmly ordering her handmaiden from her side, knowing that Emine would protest otherwise.

"Your Highness..." The dark nubile child clasped her hands and knelt on one knee before her. "Please do not send me from your side," she pleaded.

Fadilia grit her teeth together and raised her chin determinedly. "Get up child," she commanded, in a voice that was not her own. She had never raised her voice to Emine since she had been born and it felt out-of-bodily to speak to the girl in such a fashion. "And do as I have commanded."

Emine rose to her feet quickly. Her expression revealed her embarrassment at the way she had behaved - no handmaiden in the house of Kayoed would show such weakness. With head bowed, she shuffled back towards the corridor. Before the girl could leave Fadilia stopped her, resting her hands upon Emine's tense shoulders. "Be strong my child," she whispered. Lowering her head, Fadilia pressed her lips against the smooth chocolate skin of her handmaiden, a child whom she considered almost a daughter to her after her years of service. "I do this for your good, so that you may in turn serve my children and my children's children."

The handmaiden lifted her chin up proudly; her eyes shone with pride and a glimpse of defiance. "I live to serve you, my Queen." Spinning on her heel, Emine hurriedly left the communications centre towards safety. The soft rustle of fabric faded as Fadilia returned her attention to the approaching aircrafts.

"We do not know whether either of these are allies, your Highness," Quirinius warned. "Khivar's men could have commandeered one of the Ithmarian's carriers."

Fadilia stared at the two small approaching blips on the console screen. "We shall see, Quirinius. We shall see soon enough."

Isabel's head was throbbing and she felt like she was strapped down by a ton of bricks. The light that had surrounded her had faded slightly and now her world seemed to consist of darkness than anything. There seemed to be a thin, pulsing light in front of her eyes, but she could not force them open. It seemed like they were glued shut.

Where am I?

Isabel tried to force her lips to move, to form any possible word or sound; but it was as though she were encased in stone. Unfamiliar noises encompassed her - a loud fast hum vibrated near her ears. She even heard voices and bits and pieces of conversations.

"How is she doing?"

Max's voice.

"I'm not a healer, Za...Maxwell."

"Well, Larek," Max growled irritably. "Find me someone who can!"

Other than the hum that plagued her, silence seemed to fill the room after Max's demand. Isabel wanted to shake her head at Max and tell him what a tyrant he was being. Sometimes she couldn't understand where it came from. One minute he could be the most compassionate guy, and then the next he was flying off the handle at her or Michael.

Michael... She wondered if he was still alive. It had been forever since she had seen or spoken to him...or at least that was what it felt like. The war that had begun decades ago would certainly be renewed at Michael's return, especially if he came out with guns a blazing. He never thought things through...

Suddenly she felt a jolt of energy flow through her body. The humming had stopped and frantic voices filled its stead.

"We've been hit!"

Isabel silently wondered what could possibly be happening. Where were they? Where were they going? She had thought that Max was possibly taking her to a remote place where she could rest and heal, but from the surrounding sounds, it seemed she was in more peril than before.

"We're almost there," a familiar voice declared furiously. "By the Unseen, land us safely. We haven't come this far to die now!"

Isabel felt a strong hand grasp her shoulders, as if holding her in place. "Isabel, we're almost there," Max's voice whispered in her ear. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you just like you did for me."

She felt another jolt of energy, and then whatever light she could see faded. The voices slowly began to muffle and mix together until she could no longer understand what they were saying. Her heart began to pound against her chest, and she felt as if a pillow had been placed over her face and someone had begun to smother her. Isabel fought against the darkness and the invisible attacker, who was on the verge of killing her.

Oh God, someone help me! Please...somebody help me!