Tess found herself quickly making her way towards the basement of the palace, where the prisoners were held. She had no idea where the sudden inclination came from, but she felt a uneasy stirring in her gut - there was something waiting for her, or someone. Secretly winding her way down the narrow metal staircase, Tess stood in the brightly lit fluorescent corridor. It was almost blinding.

This way...

Tess cautiously crept down the maze of corridors, following the promptings of an almost inaudible voice. There were several guards lining what she could only describe as dungeons. With deft precision she created a false timeline of events within their minds; and she easily bypassed the guards. After making several twists and turns, she was now walking blind down a pitch black corridor, leaving behind the secured cells.

It was eerie; the moist, dank, corridor stank of death. There was no sound to be heard except the soft echoing voices still trailing behind her.

What could be here?

"Hello?" she whispered, risking exposure because of the slow deep churning that fluttered in her stomach. "Is anyone here?"

The whole corridor was made of a blackish-grey metal, lined with securely bolted doors, as if some monstrosity lay behind them. There were small slits behind opaque, netted glass. Pushing up on her tip toes, Tess scanned the cells for any signs of life. The first several dungeons were dark and empty, but in the second to last cell, she thought she saw a dark shadow in the corner. Staring at the multi-level deadbolt, Tess knew she would need a key or some sort of weapon to access the room. Drawing the plascer from the belt around her waist, she aimed it at the row of locks. She felt her body cringe as the jolt of the blast reverberated up her arm. Glancing cautiously over her shoulder to make sure the guards were not on their way, Tess opened the door. She could hardly see a thing.

"Hello?" she whispered again. The room smelled sterile, yet with a hint of mold hedging in on the black place.

Tess headed towards the area in which she thought she saw a shadowy mass. There was a hard metal shelf that seemed to jut out of the wall; she assumed it was meant to be a bed of some sort. As she drew closer, the figure shrunk back crying aloud, "Stay away!"

The voice sounded familiar. She couldn't quite place it. Changing the plascer setting, she pointed it above the faceless man, shedding light upon the situation. The long gaunt fingers drooped in front of her as the arms of the prisoner was carefully wrapped around his face. "Medgio?" The name just sprung to mind.

Her days spent at Tel Edrei seemed a lifetime ago. Medgio's tall proud frame was only a shadow of the figure that lay crumpled before her. "I've come to help you," she whispered, kneeling before him, grabbing his upper arms while trying to gain some leverage to bring him to his feet. "Come on, there has to be a reason I was brought down here."

Her mind was racing at what the possible reason her gut led her to this cell. Finding every Kedran prisoner was important, but it didn't seem to warrant her own presence. No, there was something more here.

"We cannot leave her!" His voice was broken and full of pain.

"Who?" Tess frowned, spinning around to scan the cell. She saw no one else.

"We cannot leave her," he repeated again, raising his arm to the far left corner of the cell. His limp form pressed mootly towards the dark shadows.

"There's no one there," she said, reassuringly. Straining her eyes, Tess tried to discern if what he was pointing at was even there, while holding her mother's faithful servant up. "Who are you talking about?"

Suddenly Medgio's weak hands pushed her forward. "Go. You must see for yourself. See what those carrions have done." His voice was between a growl and a cry.

Tess swallowed hard as her eyes focused in on the corner, where a long dark shroud suddenly appeared. Her heart began to pound and her stomach to churn. An unexpected heart-stopping tension fell upon the room. Medgio's ragged breaths were the only thing that broke the silence. She didn't think she was even breathing.

The closer she came to the darkness, the clarity of the fluid lines of cloth came into view. It was draped in a silky black cloth. Her hands trembled as they hovered above it. She took another deep breath, closing her eyes tightly, struggling with the almost child-like desire to run.

It's her; and she's dead.

Don't do it. Don't pull it back.

"Do you see?" Medgio cried. "Do you see!"

Tess bit her bottom lip. "I can't," she whispered, not sure whether it was to Medgio or to herself. "I can't look."

"They took her," he said, under his breath. "They did not realize who she was and they humiliated her. There is no burial. There must be a burial."

Tess cupped her ears, trying to shut out his insane ramblings. "No," she said, shaking her head. "She's not dead." Her breath became short and shallow. "She's not dead."

He did not hear her. "We must take her from this place, do you not understand? She must have a proper burial."

"She's not dead!" Tess screamed, spinning around to face the unrelenting voice in her head. "She's not!" Her heart was pounding and she found herself breathless, panting as if she had run a sprint.

Medgio was hunched over, his eyes almost glowing in the darkness of the cell. His gangly limbs reached out for her. It seemed as if a crazed expression had been etched upon his face. "You must see," he said hoarsely. "See what Khivar has stolen from us."

Tess turned to stop him from pulling back the mask that hid her worst fear. "No," she whispered, as the pale, wrinkled hand pulled the black shroud. She watched the graceful sweep of the delicate piece of fabric float to the ground, staring after it for what seemed to be forever.

It was as if time stopped. When she finally forced herself to face the reality that was before her. Opening her eyes slowly, the striking paleness of the skin before her caused her to gasp, her hand fluttering to her neck. Andaria's beauty was evident even in death. It seemed as if she had been frozen in time.

With trembling hand, Tess touched her mother's brow, caressing it softly. "I'm so s-sorry." The coolness of her skin was in stark contrast to her own hand. "I should have been here. I should have saved you," she whispered into her mother's ear. "I s-should have..." Her knees buckled under the weight of her body, as she desperately gathered her mother in her arms. "I should have been here to save you."

She had just found her. None of this made sense. It seemed a cruel joke. She had nothing. Everything had been taken away from her and soon, it seemed, her son as well. "Why," she whispered hoarsely. "Damn you. WHY?" Her voice rose to a fevered pitch that seemed to echo the lifeless corridors.

If God existed, he was a cruel master.

It all seemed a dream. As he watched the young woman mourn over the body of his mistress - his lady. She seemed familiar, almost recognizable; but all of these were dreams. They weren't real.

It was another long suffering vision of rescue. Not true.

Just the meanderings of a mind lost in the darkness looking for a string of hope to cling to.

He hard the footsteps of guards. They never came before in his dreams. He blinked, trying to push away the sleep and the fog from his eyes. The sobs from the young woman continued, as well as the quickening footsteps of the guards.

Suddenly the haze of his mind seemed to become more real. As he studied the image before him, he reached out his hand and touched the woman. Where he believed his hand would pass through air met a solid mass. Shaking his head, Medgio reassessed the situation. Taking a firm grasp of the blonde figure in front of him, he spun her around to face this stranger.

By the celestials...

This was real. And here before him was a broken Ava - Tess, the returned daughter of Andaria.

The shock seemed to have startled his system, jolting him to his senses. "Your Highness," he muttered, quickly drawing his hands from her person. "My apologies."

He surveyed his surroundings, trying to recall what had happened to him in the past few days and weeks. The torture had been severe, and he supposed the last straw was when the traitor Barak had brought in Lady Andaria. The events surrounding his torture and beatings after this revelation was a complete blank slate.

"I knew."

Medgio glanced over his shoulder, where Her Majesty was knelt beside her mother. "Knew what, your Highness?" His gaze flickered to the door that was slightly ajar.

They would need to make their escape soon. The guards footsteps were closing in on them.

"I knew she was dead," she whispered culpably. "I knew it and I did nothing."

"Your Highness," Medgio slipped in behind her, to support her trembling body. "We must leave. The guards are on our heels."

"We are not leaving her." She looked up at him with the same determined eyes of her mother. "We must take her from this place," she said distractedly. "That is why I was brought here. To take her from this place."

"Yes." He would play along. There was no time for argument. "There will be a proper burial," he whispered, guiding her to her feet. "But we must find the others. Those with whom you have infiltrated Eshtari?"

"Others?"

"Yes the others."

The guards voices were outside their cell. He knew that it was too late to escape without confrontation. Medgio shook Tess gently, something he would never have done in the times past, hoping she would regain some composure.

His body was weak. He knew it. And judging by the chorus of voices, there were several guards outside their door ready to kill. "Mistress, you must focus," he hissed. "All is lost if you are discovered."

As his words left his lips the door burst open - a host of guards filling the cell, weapons brandished.

Apparently it was too late.

Now is the time. Awake. Awake, my child.

"Is everything in place?" Khivar asked, striding into the turret overlooking his unsuspecting guests. His architects had been preparing the machination for the past several hours.

"Everything is ready, Sir."

"Good." He peered out into the courtyard filled with both Iturians and Kedrans alike. They frolicked like there was not a care in the world. And soon there wouldn't be.

For him.

"Prepare the child. I believe my subjects are anxious for my important reveal," he declared, clasping his hands together. "It will be brighter than the fireworks of Pela."

"General Steren, do you read me?" Michael tapped his comlink, which had remained silent ever since his last communication - since the generator had been destroyed.

"Something has gone wrong," Yasu said ominously. "I feel it."

"Shut up." Michael glared at his would-be foe. He still wasn't sure Yasu was on their side. But in the mean time, he seemed to be keeping up his end of deal, taking out every guard that had stood in their way. "You do not know what is happening," he growled. "And so you don't assume anything."

"He's right," Lt. Siothrun muttered under his breath. "General Steren would have responded by now."

Michael turned and stared down each of his soldiers. Obviously their inexperience was surfacing. "Are you here to whine about this?" He shook his head, peering through a crack in the doorway. None of the guards had managed to find them in the inconspicuous closet. "You don't mind if I don't feel like giving in like the three of you are," he said, turning around and glaring at them.

"That is not what we are saying, Commander," Esmond reasoned. "You know as well as we do that this situation is volatile and that we are outnumbered and if we do not have support coming to our aid in the next few minutes that this darkness is the last thing we are liable to see."

Michael knew he was right. His mind raced as to what could possibly have been holding General Steren up. It did make him uneasy, but as commander of his contingent, he could not let their focus wander. They needed to buy some time for General Steren, whether it was the last thing they did. "Well, prepare yourself, because we're about to find out," he said, clearing his voice. "We're going back out there and taking out as many as we can - whether General Steren is out there or not."

"We're almost there," Quirinius informed, as he slowed the unsuspecting Iturian carrier they had found within underground hangar.

"Tell me we have a plan, Max." Isabel leaned forward from her seat in a cushioned chair behind the cockpit of the ship. "Because we're going to get slaughtered if we don't," she said worriedly. An image of Jesse's pale face flashed in her mind again. She had been battling that image since she had awoken. "And I won't allow that to happen."

"Isabel," Fadilia said softly, squeezing her daughter's hand. "The Unseen is with us. His will will be done."

"What of it?" Isabel spat, glaring at her mother. "I know exactly why he kept me alive. I will see my husband avenged."

Max turned in his seat and saw a flash of anger and bitterness that seemed to mirror her soul. Since her 'resurrection' of sorts, Isabel's sole intent seemed to be seek revenge on Khivar. He knew that she had suffered more than most, losing Jesse and others she loved because of Khivar; but he did not think that it was safe for her to go into this battle with the mindset she had. It was dangerous not only to herself, but to everyone else. "Maybe you should hang back, Isabel."

"You're not leaving me behind," Isabel said darkly. "No way in hell are you leaving me behind."

"Well then you must get a hold of your emotions," Fadilia said matter-of-factly.

Isabel lips parted, as she turned to face the mother that had abandoned her decades ago. "Excuse me," she said breathlessly.

"This cannot be about exacting revenge." Fadilia had tried to be a comfort to the daughter she had lost so long ago, but since their meeting, she seemed to be spiraling out of control emotionally. And Max did not seem able to bring himself to reign her in. "You must let go of the anger," she said calmly. "Or you will fail."

"What do you know about my feelings?" Isabel exclaimed. She was in complete disbelief at the audacity her 'mother' had in supposing to tell her what she needed to do. "I don't know you from a stranger in a crowd."

"Isabel." Max did not like where this was going. He knew there had been something brewing inside of her, ever since she demanded to tag along. She was no where near recovered, but there was no arguing with her. "You've been through a lot and I know that you're hurting, but you can't go rushing into this," he breathed. "There is too much at stake."

"We're broaching the outer-limits of Eshtari," Quirinius said, as he prepared for landing.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Isabel scoffed, waving Max off. "You wouldn't be here if you could be with Liz."

Max sat up at this. He knew she was saying this out of her emotional state, but it still stung.

"Max." Isabel knew she had gone to far. She knew the words coming out of her sounded like the rantings of an obsessed woman, but she couldn't control them. She couldn't control the whirl of emotions that she was beginning to feel again.

It had been quiet and calm in her unconscious state. But now she was confronted with the emotions of the events of the past several days or weeks. Hell, she didn't even know how long it had been since this whole thing started - since Tess arrived and brought upheaval to their lives again.

"I'm sorry."

"Isabel, you have to know how dangerous Khivar is," Fadilia sighed, leaning forward, but not reaching out to her. "He will take every bit of hatred you have and use it against you."

"You cannot go into this blinded by rage and motivated by revenge. In the end it will not satisfy the hole inside you. It won't even satiate the blood-lust you have for him right now."

"And you would know this?"

Fadilia sat up and met her daughter's intense gaze. "I do."

Isabel swallowed hard, as she was unable to tear herself from Fadilia's open and honest gaze. It was almost as if she could read the memoirs of her life in those crystal clear blue eyes. Her life was an open book; and she had had much pain and loss.

She understood. And there seemed to be a moment of resolve between them.

Max turned his attention to what was going on behind him to what was ahead. There was a dim blue glow in the dusty rose horizon. The Festival had almost come to its completion. In a few minutes, Khivar would stand upon the balcony of Max's ancestors and proclaim himself king and rightful heir to the throne of Antar.

His gaze remained locked upon the darkening skyline. If Michael, Tess, and the Loyalist army could not halt the impending coronation, there would be almost no stopping the madman. Upon the official crowning of the king, an anointing was given to the reigning king; there were powers that could not be rendered impotent.

Closing his eyes, he prayed that they weren't too late. Please God, keep Michael and Tess safe. Let us not be too late.

Michael led the small group of men towards the main foyer, believing General Steren would arrive soon, if he was not already there, and expect them. The onslaught of guards seemed timid, less than they were ten or fifteen minutes ago. Having already been in battle, each of the officers seemed less hesitant in engaging the enemy. He was also quite determined - focused on the goal of getting to the main foyer and joining the rest of their army.

Slamming guards right, left and center, into walls or the marble floor, Michael saw his goal close at hand. The entrance lay behind the long black drapes mere feet away from him. "Push hard," he yelled, shoving his staff into an oncoming guard's stomach. "We're almost there."

Soon they would be together once again. Soon his army would be at full strength and he would be able to lead a charge against Khivar and his men.

Pressing on ahead, Michael left the last of the flailing guards behind him, knowing the three officers behind him were able enough to dispatch them. Striding through the flowing satin drapes, he was met by an awesome sight. It took him aback.

"Commander Guerin!" General Steren strained against the wall of Royal officers, who pushed him back forcefully.

Now he knew where the remainder of the guards had been dispatched too. In front of him stood an army at least one hundred strong, keeping a mere contingent of thirty or forty Loyalists, as well as General Steren, prisoner. It was a situation Michael and General Steren had dreaded.

His mind raced with options, scenarios that would or should get them out of this mess. But every scenario ended in much death and not much hope of victory. He did not have enough information to draw upon, to know whether the rest of their army had been wiped out, or if there was some other explanation as to the small army before him. He needed to speak to General Steren.

"Give up," a short, rotund Iturian soldier, with the ranking of a General upon his garb, commanded. "We have your men. And if you do not want to see them die before your eyes this instant, you will surrender."

"Do not listen," General Steren growled.

Michael gripped his long staff, forcing himself to keep many of the four-lettered insults he had learned on Earth to himself. That would not help the situation. No, he needed to remain calm and hope that this now overly-confident soldier would let something slip as to their situation, that would lead him to the correct course of action. "And do you think I would surrender to such a small man as yourself?" he replied slowly, carefully choosing his words. "I do not even recognize your name."

"General Garrick!" the officer declared, his eyes widened in disbelief and disdain. "This is the Iturian who has outsmarted the highly-touted Commander Rath, prophecied to deliver the people of Antar! This is he!"

"Your pallid attempt to storm the palace has failed."

"Well," he raised his voice, hoping Yasu and the others would hear his voice. "I suppose surrendering to you now, would be an option." He moved forward slowly, causing the Iturian soldiers to shift uneasily. "But does that seem like something a good Commander would do?"

"Do not give in," General Steren said darkly. "The re-fortification of the shield will not hinder us."

Michael met General Steren's knowing gaze. He nodded slowly. Not all of their men had been captured. General Steren had been wise to leave some of their men behind, just in case something went wrong. And now they awaited their signal. They were still hidden beyond the city limits.

His thoughts then turned to his men. Glancing back he steadied himself. He would have to distract Garrick away from the possibility of an unexpected attack. Find another way. He willed Yasu, Siothrun, and Esmond to remain behind those curtains - perhaps find an escape.

"Where is the rest of your contingent?"

Michael frowned. "Who are you speaking of?"

"Do not attempt to play coy with me, Commander Rath," General Garrick growled. "We know you had at least four or five others with you."

Michael lowered his head, hiding the smile upon his face. So no specific numbers. Good. "Dispatched by your adept group of soldiers," he said, slowly. "I was the only one skilled enough to survive."

"Now why do you think I would take your word?"

"Fine, don't," Michael scoffed. "But don't you think you will absolutely foolish in Khivar's eyes when you're chasing ghosts? I'm sure Nicholas wouldn't be caught dead doing something that foolish."

"Nicholas!" General Garrick laughed uproariously. "That little imp, who believes himself of use to the order of Ituria?"

Michael bit the inside of his cheek. Score two for me. "Really? I heard that he was Khivar's right hand man?"

He needed to keep him talking. Every minute of silence behind him, led Michael to believe that Yasu, Siothrun and Esmond had managed to heed his warning and were now working their way from this carefully laid snare. If Yasu was as intelligent as Michael had observed, he would either find Tess and mount another strategem of attack, or get the hell off of the premises and regroup.

"Now listen you impudent, bastard, half-breed!" General Garrick had managed to close the distance between them without his notice. Now he stood inches from his person, with his finger in his face. "I will so graciously inform you of the workings of this palace, which you some how suppose is yours to repossess. Khivar in a matter of minutes is about to unleash something never before seen or heard of. And you and your little band of rebels are about to witness the true awesome power of the rightful king of Antar."

"Is that so?" Michael inched closer. He was almost at arms length from the wretch. If he could only distract him long enough to get his arms around the scrawny neck of the chubby bastard. "Are you sure what you're doing right now is the correct move?" he whispered slyly. "Are you sure we did not forsee a plan such as a trap like this?"

He was almost there.

"No more verbal repartee, Rath," General Garrick yawned. "I grow tired of this." With a swift flick of his wrist, a small black metal disc slid into the palm of the Iturian. "You may have been a great strategist in your past life, but there is no strategem that works better than brute force."

The last thing Michael saw was a bright red flash from Garrick's outstretched hand. Then darkness came.

"Commander Guerin has been taken," Esmond said darkly. "What are we to do now?"

They had overheard their commander's warning. Taking heed, they escaped down a set of stairs off to the side of the main foyer. Now they were alone, without any leader.

"We must find a way out of the palace," Siothrun hissed. "There is no possibility of taking Khivar without a contingent to support us." He glanced at Esmond, who seemed to be nodding in agreement.

"No."

Both spun around to see Yasu shaking his head.

"What do you mean no?" Siothrun growled. "We are outnumbered and both of our Commanders have been taken hostage for all we know."

"We must remain here. Our mission is not finished." Yasu surveyed the stairwell, which they had stolen into. It seemed familiar to him. He closed his eyes and scanned the recesses of his memory. A green image floated to the surface, with the schematics of the palace layout. "Yes," he breathed. "There is a way."

"A way?" Esmond frowned, unsure as to what Yasu was mumbling about. "A way where?"

"A way to discern whether we are outflanked or whether there is another way to outmaneuver our enemy."

"You're talking suicide, Yasu." Siothrun shook his head in disgust. "There is no way. We have no idea where we are; and the Queen deserted us several rooms back and now Commander Guerin is in the hands of Khivar and his minions."

"The Queen has not deserted us," Yasu spat, glaring down the young soldier. "And do not let me hear another word of that kind from your lips."

Siothrun stiffened, straightening up to meet Yasu's stern gaze.

"Well it sounds like you have plan, Yasu," Esmond said calmly, stepping in between the two officers. Since he was senior officer, it was his duty to take charge, at least for the moment. "Tell us what it is."

Glancing at Esmond, who looked at him expectantly, he cleared his throat. There was no time for butting of heads. The survival of Antar depended upon them. "Follow me." He turned and began to make his way down the dark stairwell. "We must hurry," he whispered. "There is a small window of opportunity before the Coronation."

"Are you ready, child?" Khivar cooed, as he caressed the pale child's soft head. "You are about to witness the official crowning of the King of Antar."

He felt a surge of adrenaline pump through his veins as he stared down at the source of his power. Soon this child would give him a victory never heard of. It would be recorded in the annals of the Antarian Book of Records. Songs and stories would be sung and written about this day.

"Prepare Project Pilan." He watched as his architects scurried about the laboratory, which had been built into the north east tower, preparing for the revelation of the trillinium. Rubbing his hands together, he felt the corners of his lips curl wickedly. "When I signal you, open the doors," he commanded. "And let the floodgates pour out on the unsuspecting subjects of Antar.

"King Khivar." A young captain entered the tower, kneeling before him. "General Garrick sent me to you."

"What for?" He glanced behind him towards the draped machination. Garrick should have known better to send someone to this place.

"We have taken the Loyalist contingent."

Khivar's eyes widened in delight. "Really?" Prophecy or not - it seemed things were falling into place for him.

"Yes."

"Tell General Garrick to bring them to the throne room," he said gleefully, dismissing him with a flick of his wrist. The captain nodded and spun on his heel down the stairwell.

"Everything is ready, Your Majesty," Architect Sanom informed. "Project Pilan will be launched at your command."

"Good." Khivar clasped his hands together. "And we even have guests to witness the display."

"Who knew the Loyalists were so kind to provide such delightful coronation gifts."