It felt as if time had passed, yet managed to stand still.

On the edge of death arose a sense of self. She had begun this journey without request; now she found herself ending it in the same manner. The life she had known was ever present. She could see it with a fleeting thought. What was unexpected was the recollection of a life which had passed her by decades ago.

It was another life, another time.

It pained her to an indescribable degree. She saw things in color, as if they had occurred only days, weeks, maybe even months ago. Her emotions and thoughts were so real � so palpable to her. Yet still certain things remained inaccessible.

This person that she knew intimately was not her � yet still seemed to exist.

The heavy fog that she was immersed in had now begun to lift, and there seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel. Part of her dreamed that this was the end; she was going to a place where there was no struggle or pain. She longed to be with those she had lost and watched suffer.

But it was not meant to be - something willed her on, something was willing her to stay. There was still unfinished business...

It was more like a dull heavy pain that weighed in her body. Every inch of her ached, and she felt like she had no strength to even part her lips. Isabel's side felt like there was a hot iron poker stabbing at her.

God help me.

She did not know if she could stand the pain.

"It will be better soon, my darling." The voice was soothing with its low melodic lilt. It sent shivers down her spine. Her mind raced as it triggered an image of a young, vibrant regal woman before her eyes. It was an image of her mother.

Isabel groaned, trying to force her eyes open to confirm her suspicions. As her lids fluttered open just a little, she felt a cool hand caress her cheek. It was comforting, as if a soothing energy was being transferred through its� touch.

"There will be time to be reunited, my daughter."

With those last words, Isabel fell into a light sleep.

"Engage." Michael pressed on as he led his men through the corridors, now strewn with the bodies of Khivar's men, as more poured in through side entrances. "Do not let up," he shouted, blasting one officer to his right and another approaching from behind. "We must give General Steren enough time to press our advantage."

By now, the whole palace, including Khivar had been alerted to their presence. It was now his job to divert their attention, while General Steren invaded the grounds. As he was brought in close to his enemies for hand to hand combat, Michael felt himself go into automatic pilot. He had no time to think during this situation. It was either kill or be killed.

And he preferred to be the former.

Fadilia stroked her daughter's golden locks. It was not as fine as Antarian hair, but it still held a certain softness. As her hand cupped her daughter's peaceful face, Fadilia's heart felt like it was going to burst.� She had her children with her, though the way she had reunited with them had been less than joyful, with Vilandra near death and Zan also seriously injured.�

But the physical she could remedy; it was the mental and emotional toll their journey home must have taken upon her children, which she could do nothing about.� For her though, it had been an eternity without them, and now reunited it seemed like that void had never existed in the first place.

After she had instructed Quirinius on how to disable the security system within the mansion-like house when they first arrived, they had managed to settle into Tel Edrei; she began tending to Vilandra and Zan�s injuries. Unexpectedly the property had been deserted. �All had assumed the place would be swarming with guards.

"Is she all right?" Max paced back and forth. Since Isabel had the first signs of coherency, his sister had been under such a deep sleep. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked, fretting at his sister's motionless state.

"I will begin the healing process soon."

"What do you mean?"

"It is a hybrid process using a mixture of the gifts we have been given from the Unseen, as well as special herbs and plant life found only in the southern hemisphere of Antar." Pushing herself up from her kneeling position, Fadilia slipped passed her son and slowly made her way to the entranceway to her far left. She knew that Andaria kept their topside base fully equipped with medicines and herbs. Tel Edrei was the most up-to-date facility besides their central command center at Mount Freiweils.

Silently she recited the verses taught to her by her grandmother that led healers through the procedure. �It had been ages since she had used this process to heal her people. Though effective, if there was an incorrect ratio of the herbs and plant life then the patient could fall into an eternal sleep.

� Lost in thought, Fadilia stopped mid-stride, realizing she had walked past the healing quarters.� Pressing her hand against the warm glowing pad, the doors slid open and the whole room illuminated in a warm yellow glow.� She scanned the empty room, with only a few flat, narrow tables lined up against the wall.� Out of the corner of her eye she spied a silver cabinet; it was tucked away, as if trying to hide in plain sight. "There it is."

When she returned, she found her son speaking with Quirinius. This gave her unusual hope. She had heard rumors that her son was reluctant to take his rightful place on the throne of Antar. His return had shown a change of mind; his posture, while still hesitant, gained confidence with every passing hour.

Kneeling before her daughter, Fadilia realized that she must also become accustom to referring to her children by new names. The thought was disturbing; however, she knew that as Ava and Rath had changed and were reborn into new beings, so had her son and daughter. She tried to recall what General Steren had told her years ago about Zan and Vilandra. "Isabel." Her voice was faint, but seemed to cause her daughter to stir from her sleep.

So this was to be her daughter's given name - Isabel.

"Are there happily ever afters, Mother?"

"Do you believe in them, Vilandra?"

Vilandra began to chew on her bottom lip. The stories told to her by their nursemaid pointed to yes. Idumia wasn't the sort to lie to her royal Highness. Or at least she had no idea if she did. "I would like to think so, but that could be a child's notion of a perfect world."

The crooked smile on her mother's lips made her frown. What had she said?

"But you are a child, my darling?" The most elegant being Vilandra had ever known, to whom she measured beauty's essence, laughed heartily. "Now, why are you thinking of such things?" she asked, stifling the melodic tone.

"Well, I was speaking with Zan; he was saying that everyone says that I am going to end up with Rath." Even the name left a bitter taste in her mouth. The arrogant and stubborn childhood friend of her brother's was disgusting and always tortured her with any slimy, disgusting insect or animal he could find. "And if that is even remotely true, I just don't see how I can possibly believe in happily ever after," she explained matter-of-factly.

"Don't you think you're still a little young to be thinking of such things, Vilandra?" Her mother seemed taken aback by her questions. "You are only eleven by the first passing of Cedris," she said, with a slightly amused look on her face. "So there is much time to worry about finding you a suitable husband."

"But mother, Zan was saying he overheard father speaking to Radim about it."

"I'm sure it was in jest."

"Well it better have been, because there's no way I'm going NEAR Rath."

"We'll talk about this when you're older Vilandra. Time changes many things...even annoying boys like Rath."

Vilandra rolled her eyes at her mother. She had obviously never had a warted sperandid shoved in her face by the boy. "It would take Healer Belamy to fix him," she said, wrinkling her nose at the thought of having to kiss Rath. She shook her head. "Ew."

"Michael?" Isabel groaned. Her body still ached, but somehow the stabbing pain in her side had subsided. "Max?"

As her eyes fluttered open, she saw a radiant glow above her. Her first thought was that she must have died and gone to heaven, but on closer inspection, the face hovering above her held a strange familiarity. It was like deja-vu.

Resting her eyes a moment, she remembered where she had seen that face before. It was the woman in her dream. The woman, herself - Vilandra - had called...mother.

"Mother?" The words seemed strange upon her lips. The face did not match the woman whom she had called mother for most of her life. It was almost like a violent physical reaction, causing her to pull away from the figure above her. "M-Max! Max, where are you?"

Her heart was pounding; she felt like a cornered animal. Isabel had always thought she would run to her, embrace the biological mother that she had dreamed - imagined about for days on end. But she wanted to get away. She wanted the familiar. She wanted her brother.

"Max!"

"Isabel!" The woman left her side, parting so that Max could take her place. "Isabel you're all right!" Max exclaimed happily. "You have no idea how worried I was about you."

"Oh god, Max you have no idea what it was like," she breathed, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around Max's neck as tightly as possible. "I saw so many weird and amazing things. And half of it I'm not sure if it was real or not."

"I don't care if what you did or did not see, just as long as you're alive and here with me." Max pulled back, wanting to make sure she was truly all right. "You don't know how scared we were. You were so close to dying so many times."

Isabel nodded. "I could feel myself slipping away, but something sent me back. Someone."

"They sent me back to finish something."

Max frowned. "What do you mean?"

Isabel didn't know how to explain what she had experienced when she was in a coma - near death. It gave her a sense of purpose, yet filled her with a uncertain dread. There was so much at stake; and this Being had given her charge of this massive undertaking - her and the other Three.

"She needs her rest, Zan...Max." The low soothing voice recovered quickly from the mistaken identity. "And we do not have time to dawdle."

Isabel frowned as Max seemed to acquiesce to their...their mother's request. "What do you mean no time?" Suddenly it dawned on her that she did not recognize her surroundings at all. "Max, where are we?" she asked, slightly confused. "The last thing I remember is being in the desert.�

The image of Jesse's face flashed before her eyes. Closing her eyes she pushed it away. "What happened?"

"We're on Antar."

Isabel frowned. She should have deduced that with their mother hovering beside them. Swallowing she nodded, still unable to meet her mother's gaze. "Why don't I remember any of this?"

"You were seriously hurt during our battle with Qunar," Max explained softly. "You almost died."

"Okay," she said slowly, digesting the information with her already befuddled mind. "Then how did we get here? I mean we don't have any ship or anything."

"Larek came for us."

"Larek?" The name sounded familiar. Then it dawned on her, who that was. "But how?" she asked.

"I sent him."

Isabel turned to look at the woman who had probably saved her life. "How did you know....How did you know to send him?"

"We had reports about Khivar sending a contingent to Earth," Fadilia explained. "General Steren, the commander of our army, thought it would be wise to send someone for you."

"But how did you know that we'd even come with him?" It felt like everything had been assumed. Isabel frowned. How could they just assume we'd leave our life there? We had made our choice.

Max could see the revelation of their journey to Antar and the trauma of the fight was taking its toll. "Isabel, you need to rest." He squeezed her hand and gently slid her back under the grey sheets. "We'll take care of everything."

Isabel knew Max was trying to shelter her from the present danger that loomed. The spiritual encounters, if she could call them that, reminded her that they needed to dispatch Khivar from the throne as soon as possible. If it was the last thing she did, she would make him pay for everything she had lost - the first and the second time. "I'm coming with you."

"You're too weak." Fadilia shook her head anxiously. "There is no way you could possibly prepare for the dangerous confrontation ahead," she declared matter-of-factly. "You would die."

"Then so be it," Isabel answered defiantly. Death held no fear for her any longer. She almost welcomed it. But this was something she could not utter out loud. She glanced up at Max, who seemed upset at her determination. "I'm coming and not you," she met her mother's dark gaze, "or Maxwell is going to stop me."

"This is why I came back. It is time to clear up some unfinished business."

"We're almost through the forefront of the Iturian army," Esmond shouted above the heads of several soldiers attacking him.

"Don't worry," Michael growled, swinging the black rod in his hand diagonally, knocking his enemy unconscious. "There will be more. This is just the first wave."

Michael knew that they were there to tire them. Then the next wave would swoop in to clean up the mess. It was a classic move by an opponent with far more resources than they had at the moment. It would take General Steren and his men a while to get through the front gates, even with the plasma field down. He was sure that Khivar had sent most of his resources to the main gate.

"We can take them!"

Michael shook his head at the overly confident lieutenant. "Lieutenant, we cannot keep up this pace," he barked, scanning the surrounding area. They needed to gather their wits. As much as this was expected and planned, they needed to regroup - for the wave of fresh soldiers that were prepared to kill on sight. Knocking out his last attacker and watching as Esmond, Siothrun and Yasu did the same, he turned the corner down the broad corridor and led them into an empty chamber.

"What are we doing here?" Siothrun asked irritably. "The battle is out there."

Michael glared at the impetuous youth. "You aren't battle weary enough to understand that these soldiers you are killing are Antarian lives," he spat. Michael had no regard to those who were coming at him with the intention to kill, but he certainly did not do it with blood lust. He killed out of necessity. Siothrun seemed to relish in the kill - to him they were faceless men. "You think that you're a man, a true warrior, taking these men's lives without a thought?"

"That is a bunch of crap."

"What did I say?" Siothrun shook his head, with an incredulous look. "We are here to free our people from Khivar's insanity. And these men are in our way," he stated matter-of-factly. "What does it matter how many we kill? As long as they are dead and we are not."

Michael sighed in silent frustration. There was no way to explain to him the knowledge that came with a lifetime of war. He had tried to do it once before. "You will see," he said softly. "When the night is over and you are surrounded by carnage and rubble, you will not be so inclined to glorify war."

"All of Eshtari is abuzz," Vilandra exclaimed delightfully, entering his quarters unannounced. "Lieutenant Rath commanding the legions!"

Rath slid his cloak off and threw it on his bed. "What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly. He was not in the mood for Vilandra's flights of fancy. Not after what he had been through the past few days.

Assigned to Qusay, an outpost on the outskirts of the region of Dubaku, there had been an unexpected attack by Hakan, leader of the Iturian contingent, and his army. There had been much bloodshed. In those three days of siege and battle, he had killed more than he had sparred with, during his training.

"Well obviously being carried by procession has obviously gone to your head," Vilandra sniffed, as she picked up his cloak and neatly draped it across her arm. "Because I do not recall any soldier of the royal army ever speaking to a member of the royal family that way."

Rath spun around and eyed her warily. "I apologize profusely," he said, his words laced with a hint of malice. He approached her carefully, his gaze never leaving hers. "I am but a humble servant of her Majesty." With that, he knelt before her on one knee, head bowed.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Whatever do you mean, your Highness?" Rath looked up defiantly. "Do you find my behavior distasteful?" he spat. Rising to his feet he spun around and walked towards the lavage chamber. Waving his hand across the small circular sensors, which caused the flow of water to fill the basin in front of him, he stared at himself in the mirror fixated upon the wall.

"What is wrong, Rath?" The haughtiness of royal privilege had left her voice. "This is not like you."

"And what is like me?" he asked irritably. Spinning around, he faced the soft ethereal vision in front of him. She stood in front of him, innocent - unaware of the ugliness of battle. She was untouched by the hardness - unjaded by hatred and the stench of death. "Who am I now?"

"Why are you behaving this way?"

Closing his eyes, he rested against the stone basin, regretting the harshness of his words. He did not mean to take the his feelings of guilt and self-loathing upon her. "I am sorry." His words held the sentiment that had been lacking previously.

"You are a hero among the people, Rath," Vilandra said softly. "Do you not realize..."

"Please do not use that word," he growled, shaking his head. "I am nothing of the sort."

His insides churned from the guilt and disgust he had for himself. At that outpost he had no idea what he was capable of - now three days later, he knew....He knew all too well.

"But everyone says..." Vilandra's voice trailed off.

"They do not know." Rath opened his eyes and gazed upon her confused face. "They live in their marble buildings. They sit in their courtyards and have their fill during the feasts, but we...we have to face the darkness," he hissed. "We have to face the darkness so their appetites are not spoiled."

It took everything in him not to curse the Royal family - his own father for bringing him into such a life. There had been no choice for him. It was expected; in fact, his instructors praised him for his aptitude.

Suddenly he felt her hand slide into his. Vilandra's blue eyes gazed worriedly upon him. He had never seen such beauty - it would be unmatched he had once told Zan. Letting out a deep breath, he groaned. "Perhaps it is for the best. It is better that some face the darkness, so that a few may live without it."

"What do you mean?" Vilandra tilted her head curiously. "I think that it would be exhilarating to receive that sort of praise from the people," she said incredulously. "Instead of being adored from afar, for something as inane as beauty or a title given to me by birth."

"You do not want this glory," Rath said darkly, squeezing her hand tightly. "You do not want it."

"How do you know what I want?" She met his gaze, as if taking offense to his warning.

She was so headstrong. The girl did not see the price that was to be paid. She did not see the price he was paying right now.

"Promise me you will not take it, unless you are forced to." Before she could turn away, he grabbed her by the shoulders, trapping her. "Promise me," he said, almost demanding the verbal oath. "Promise me you will not be so foolish to walk headlong into battle."

"When am I going to have such an opportunity?" Vilandra said, rolling her eyes. "I am like a kept woman within these palace walls. Besides, who would ever challenge us? Eshtari is a fortress and no one has qualms with us."

Rath felt a cold chill run through him, as if her words would come to back to haunt them all. Gripping her chin between his thumb and index finger, he forced her to look him in the eye. "Vilandra, you will pay a high price if you are unwilling to understand death is only beautiful and noble in fairy-tales."

"I am not a child." She pulled out of his grasp defiantly. "I am a woman and can handle these things as well as any man."

"It has nothing to do with being a woman or a man," Rath spoke softly. "And everything to do with losing a part of yourself when you kill or watch someone die."

"And what if I tell you I do not believe you."

"Then," Rath sighed, closing his eyes at her obstinance. "You will one day find out what pain and loss means when death visits you or those you love."

Vilandra stepped backwards, moving away from him. He could see his words unsettled her. Spinning around she slipped through the entranceway and into the palace corridors.

One day you will understand. I am all too sure that day will be visited upon you.