The feeling of the rough textured surface against her fingertips calmed her racing heart, as she unconsciously ran her hand against the corridor wall. It was instinct, as if she had done it a thousand times before.

Familiar voices, and sounds of laughter and conversation hauntingly echoed down the dimly lit hallway.

Keep your eyes closed, Ava!

Tess felt herself being led, almost guided down the empty wing of the palace. She found herself standing in front of a grey carpeted set of stairs. It was well worn. Somehow she knew they were used by the household servants.

Do I have to stay here Momma? I wanna go play with Shashta and Abara.

Closing her eyes, she saw the images of people's faces, both familiar and unfamiliar. She felt the blood rush to her face, and suddenly her breath became shallow and slightly laboured. Tess felt her head begin to spin again, the same feeling she had when she recalled past memories in the underground passageways. Licking her lips, she rested a moment, allowing the throbbing pain to subside.

Ava, what did I say to you about entering the courtyard? You know Papa and I have spoken to you several times about going out there in the dead of night.

Opening her eyes, Tess studied her surroundings with new eyes. Things had certainly changed over the years of absence, but she was beginning to recall many memories triggered by a remaining piece of furniture or a dip in the stairwell banister, where she had accidentally gashed the finely carved railing with a butter knife.

Tess fingered the polished ornamental knob at the bottom of the stairwell. Ava had run up these stairs every day and night. Her room was upstairs, two doors down from Idumia's, Zan's nursemaid, bedroom. The memories of her child seemed so vivid standing at the bottom of the stairwell. It was almost like it had been days ago.

"To the main entrance!"

Tess froze, hearing male voices coming towards her. With a sharp intake of breath, she sped up the stairs, hiding at the top of the stairwell, kneeling with her face peering through the narrow spindle-like columns into the small lobby below. Her heart was pounding against her chest. It was almost like she had run a hundred metre dash.

A group of soldiers - about twelve in all - paused, awaiting instructions from one taller officer in particular.

"There has been a breach in the forcefield. We have less than ten minutes to secure the grounds, around the Inner Sanctum."

Tess swallowed hard, thanking whatever Power-That-Be, that Michael's mission had been a success. There would be a large scramble by Khivar's army to maintain order with the large crowd in attendance for his official 'coronation', as well as securing the perimeter around Eshtari. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself not to yell at the enemy below, 'Take that!', and incinerate them; but she could not alert Khivar to her position and that would surely happen if his men began disappearing.

You are entering the Royal family, my daughter. You no longer belong here. You shall sit on the throne.

How was he to know that stepping through a simple doorway could possibly change the entire outlook on his life and seemingly answer the questions that had plagued him since his 'awakening'?

It wasn't like anything from the movies. He and Isabel had imagined this moment ever since they knew they were 'different'. And he had to say the first meeting was unlike anything he or Isabel had discussed. It was not this warm reunion of longing looks and open arms.

This meeting was rushed by circumstance and silenced by both fear and awe.

She was even more beautiful than the image she had projected within the cavern. Seeing her for the first time, Maxwell could see why Isabel sometimes radiated such a graceful and regal aura about her. There was just something about her. She had this warm glow about her that he had never expected. It seemed to almost reach out and embrace him.

"There is no time for warm reunions," Larek interrupted abruptly. "I'm sorry your Highness, but we must leave before Nicholas and his men arrive."

"Zan. Vilandra." A low contra-alto voice sounded within the cavernous room filled with unidentifiable instruments and computers. The statuesque figure that stood half-turned towards them stared in shock or in disbelief. Max was unsure which he read on her flawless face. "I-is that truly you?" she asked, as her fingers fluttered to her ruby lips. Her stunningly clear blue eyes glittered, with the threat of tears shining underneath the glow of the overhanging lamps.

Max was at a loss for words. He did not know what he would feel at this moment; and here it now was, and she stood in front of him only a couple of feet away. He could reach out and touch her.

It was all something like a dream.

"Maxwell!" Larek's urgent voice shook him from his reverie. "We must leave."

"Leave?" Max frowned. "But we only just got here."

"You know very well we cannot stay with Nicholas at our heels," Larek rebuked irritably.

It took him a moment to gather his senses and come back to the present and the impending forces bearing down on them. He tore his gaze away from his mother for a moment and noticed the lone soldier barricaded with his mother. "Is there an escape route from the caverns?"

"T-there i-is a fleet of carriers in the hanger," the officer stuttered, with a expression of awe etched onto his face.

"Good," Larek nodded. "You will lead them through the passageways."

"And what about you?" Max turned around and stared at his steady companion, who had walked him through the beginning turmoil of his re-emergence as Ruler of Antar. "Why do you sound like you're not coming?" he asked worriedly.

Larek slipped Isabel's cool body into his arms. "My friend," he said with a soothing voice. "You must go through the next part of the journey with these three."

"Larek, what are you saying?" Fadilia asked, in a commanding voice.

"I will keep Nicholas occupied while you, Isabel, Maxwell, and..." he glanced questioningly at the nameless soldier.

"Quirinius. Private Quirinius Intevra."

"And Private Intevra, are safely aboard a ship and away from Mount Freiweils."

"No." Max shook his head, not willing to leave someone whom he did not know, yet trusted with his life, to fend off Nicholas and his throng of bloodthirsty minions. "You're not going to pull some heroic-martyr stunt that will have you emblazoned as some kind of legend," he dismissed stubbornly. "Not going to happen."

Max could see a hint of a smile creeping upon Larek's face. He, on the other hand, could not see anything about this being remotely funny or hilarious at all. This was life or death and he would not let Larek die for him. Not yet, anyways.

"It's not your decision, your Highness."

The words seemed to send a jolt to his system. It had been the first time Larek had ever referred to him in that manner. Your Highness. The words seemed foreign.

"Of course it is," Max said, finally turning to Zan's former best friend. "As 'king', I have a the authority to order you to come with me."

"I'm sorry it does not work that way," Larek laughed softly. "Since I am Ithmarian, I am not subject to your rule."

Max clenched his teeth as the rejection sunk in.

"But I do hold dear that you feel so strongly to try."

Max wished there were some way he could persuade Larek to leave with him. But seeing the determined look in the robed counsellor's eyes, he knew there was no point. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Nicholas would slaughter him.

"Do not worry, your Highness," Larek said reassuringly. "This old boy still has a few tricks up his sleeve."

Max questioned Larek's confidence.

"Your Highnesses, this way."

Turning he saw his mother and the young soldier gesturing him to follow him. Glancing down at Isabel, he knew that there was no more time to waste. She needed medical attention immediately. "Where are we going?"

"Tel Edrei."

One wrong turn...

And Tess found herself wandering down a wide corridor, that gave wide berth to an almost isolated corridor with gold torches lining the pale walls. As she carefully made her way down the hall, the torches seemed to sense her presence and a step past the pairings of torches, a warm orange glow would ignite within the frosted glass cradled in the meticulously etched, raised golden bowls. The light against the pale walls brought a sense of security as if a protective shield were being created behind her.

When she reached the end of the corridor, in front of her was double doors. They were white with intricately carved molding around it. Tess swallowed hard, as she rested her hands on the slick golden handles. As she pulled them towards them, a gust of air rushed past her and it was as if it brought with it a sea of memories.

It was larger than a master bedroom. It was almost a house in itself. Entering it slowly, she was struck by the large canopied bed, draped in black satin. Tess pressed the bottom of her palm against her temple as a searing pain swept over her. Blinking, she saw the same bed dressed in royal satin blue and a sheer white chiffon canopy tied loosely to the four bedposts. Suddenly in the next blink of an eye, she saw the all black bed reappear before her.

What is going on?

"It's tradition," Zan whispered into her ear. "I must carry you over the threshold, my love."

Ava clung to Zan's neck as he swept her up in his arms. She had never felt so giddy in her life. The wedding had been a ceremony to end ceremonies. She had never seen so many Kedrans and Iturians under one roof. It had been perfect.

"Do you like it, Ava?"

The room was filled with candles and white freelias. They were her favorite flowers. They had been the flowers Zan had picked for her while on their first date, as they walked down the moors of Kesseliage.

Ava had never imagined this for her life. Her mother had been the handmaiden for Queen Fadilia and she expected she would do the same for their daughter. Instead she found herself in the prince's arms.

"How was I ever so fortunate to find you?" Zan asked, voicing her silent thoughts, as he slid his arms from under her and set her on her feet.

"No, how was I ever fortunate enough to have you even see me?" Ava corrected, sliding her arms around his, which were wrapped around her waist.

"I knew from the moment I saw you on the cliffs that something was missing in my life. I had always strived, worked to be worthy of my position and I was satisfied in that." He paused. "But I had never felt so incomplete until I saw you," he whispered, squeezing her tightly. "You made it seem possible that everything I strove to be was actually possible."

"You told me that I was that person."

"And you are, Zan." Ava spun around in his arms, until she was staring into those dark brooding eyes that never seemed to stop doubting or questioning their own motives or actions. "You are a good son, a loving husband, and a passionate King," she said firmly. "Do you ever stop doubting you are worthy of your position and authority?"

Zan smiled softly and cupped her face in his hands. Gently kissing her upon the lips, he answered, "Yes, my love. The day I married you, I knew that I was all of those things."

"I love you Zan."

"And I love you, Ava, my love."

Tess opened her eyes and knew...she knew all that she had shared with Zan - all the love Ava had shared with Zan. She remembered her childhood, her mother and father, and dying side by side Zan. At one time, she would have given her right arm to remember her life here on Antar; but now she found herself only with bittersweet memories. There was no Zan and Ava.

There would be no Max and Tess.

It was only then that she realized how final it was. Only now, as she stood in her wedding chamber did Tess realize that Max was lost to her forever.

Max kept his thoughts to himself on the trip over to Tel Edrei. Since his arrival on Antar, his growing awareness to the looming darkness over the land had been settling upon him. And of late, he felt this loss. He couldn't explain it. It was as if something were slipping away - as if he were losing a part of himself.

Glancing behind him, he saw Fadilia kneeling beside the stasis unit, something similar to the one on the Ithmarian ship, but more effective. Isabel had regained much of her color, and her breathing seemed less laboured. The sight of their mother whispering encouraging words to his sister overwhelmed him with unspeakable emotions.

How long had she been waiting for them? How long had she hoped and dreamed to be reunited with them?

How could I have wanted to deny her that?

Max furrowed his brow. But he wasn't her 'son'. He and Isabel weren't 'Zan' and 'Vilandra'. Max shook his head in frustration - he couldn't even remember his life as Zan. He....

Suddenly he was hit with a sharp pain in his temple, which left him screaming in agony. Max was left speechless as the pain brought a blinding darkness upon him.

"Zan!" He could hear his mother call her former son's name. "Zan, what is wrong?" she cried out in fear.

He felt himself slide down to his knees, as he tried to force the pain to subside. But it refused. It was unrelenting.

"Zan!"

"What would you say if I were to refuse your request for marriage?"

Zan could not believe his ears. Never had he ever suspected his parent's disapproval of his relationship with Ava. They had cautioned him to be sure of his 'course of action'. That was it. They had never said that he was not to see her, let alone court her.

"I would ask why you would do such a thing, Father."

"Is it not obvious?" Alaric replied irritably. "She is the daughter of a handmaiden - below your status."

Zan knew his father to be a rigid man; a man that followed the rules. But never had he ever thrown station into their servants' faces. He had never known his father to be so cruel. "And what is that?" he asked incredulously. "A daughter of the handmaiden of the Queen of Antar. How could you possibly refuse my request?"

"You have known Ava since she was born." He began pacing in front of his father, who sat on his throne, with his mother at his side. "And you have treated her as a daughter. You've treated all of your servants as family - as equals. How am I not supposed to do the same?"

"Zan, you must understand..."

Zan spun around and glared at his mother, who seemed unsurprised by his father's decision and unusually calm. She was closer to Andaria and Ava than anyone, other than himself. His mother spent her days and nights with Andaria and for her to agree that she is just a servant...

"Do not utter a word mother," he seethed. The shock had finally subsided and now only anger and resentment remained. "I do not want to hear a word unless it is in support of my marriage..."

"Do not take that tone with your mother," Alaric boomed, slamming his fist against the gold-plated armrest. "I will not have it."

"You won't have it," Zan mimicked in disgust. "Well I do not care what you want. You and your rules!"

"Zan!"

"I do not care what you want. I am going to marry Ava."

"No matter what?" Alaric asked curiously. "Even if it would cost you the throne?"

Zan froze. He studied his father's face. He was serious. "You would take the throne from me?" The thought never crossed his mind. Of course the thought of his parent's objections had never crossed his mind either.

"If I said yes?"

Zan knew he stood at a precipice. He thought about all of the minutes, hours, days and years he had spent grooming himself for the day he would accept the crown and scepter from his father - everything would have been for naught. Would he give it up? But before he could give it a second thought the image of Ava's face flashed in front of his eyes.

Meeting his father's stern, questioning gaze Zan answered him, "Yes."

He turned to leave the room, but his father's loud voice stopped him in his tracks. "Zan."

"What is it?" Zan could not turn and look at his father again. His mind was spinning from the whole reality of it all. He would no longer be prince.

But it is worth it for her...

"I give you my blessing."

Zan, once again, was stopped in his tracks. Turning on his heel, he looked his father straight in the eye and shook his head in disbelief. "What?"

"I give you my blessing," Alaric said gruffly.

"What are you speaking of?"

"Your Father gave you and Ava our blessing," Fadilia repeated, a huge grin upon her face.

"I do not understand." Zan shook his head, sticking a finger in his ear, wondering if he was hearing things. "You just spoke of me renouncing my claim upon the throne?"

"We needed to know, Zan," she answered softly. "Whether you are willing to give up everything for her. Only someone who has captured your heart so, is deserving of you."

Zan shook his head, still in disbelief. "B-but..." His mother and father sat in front of him and chuckled at his expense. "Why would you put me through that?" he asked, finally managing to gather his composure at his parent's cruel idea of a test.

"There are going to be many things that challenge your love," Fadilia replied knowingly, rising from her throne. "And there will be obstacles to your marriage from the royal lineage, as well as the people, and you must be able to handle it accordingly - without doubt or hesitation. Or your marriage or your throne will not stand the test of time."

"Who would..."

"There are those who would use anything to make you stumble and fall," Alaric said gravely. "And it is a long steep fall, my son."

"Then I will have to be sure," Zan stiffened, "that I make them fall first." He nodded once towards his father who gazed upon him with approval.

"No more talk of that," Fadilia chided, as she slipped her arms around her son. "My son is getting married."

Zan smiled, wrapping his arms around his mother. "I knew you would be happy Mother," he whispered, smelling the draught of moonlift in her hair.

"I am, Zan. I am so happy for you, Zan."

"Zan."

Max groaned as a dull throbbing replaced the sharp piercing pain. He felt a strong gentle hand help him up into a sitting position. "Did anyone get the license plate on that truck?"

"Zan?"

Groggily, Max realized where he was and opened his eyes to see his Fadilia hovering over him. The trigger of recognition was heart-stopping. "Mom?"

Fadilia looked at him curiously for a moment, unsure of what his words meant.

"Mom."

As the one word left his lips, the memory of the dream-like embrace became reality. And unaware of his surroundings, Max felt, for the first time, the feeling of his mother's loving arms around him. It was something that no memory could ever satisfy.

Now that his memory was returning, he wondered what other feelings would come bubbling to the surface as well.