Max awaited as Capt. Nuha prepared the troops for battle. He had wandered away from the gallery of awe-inspired soldiers milling about trying to capture a glimpse of the resurrected king and to a secluded area of the forest. It was dense trees where he walked, though he managed to find a small pathway to a dark embankment overlooking the breathtaking city, with the castle spiralling upwards to six hundred feet or so he guessed.

It hadn't changed much as far as Max could tell from this distance. The overall structure of the castle had changed with Khivar's additions of turrets and encompassing walls - those more menacing than the appearance of the original castle. But to his own familiar eyes he saw the city as it had once been. At noonday the castle's pinnacle seemed as though to kiss Antar's blazing sun, while its rays warmed the open courtyards as the city's children played. It was as if he were standing on the balcony of the castle once more - the haunting laughter of children filled his ears.

Father!

Max stood, startled at the unexpected cry. It was a child's voice, tired and worn. The children were brought along on this perilous mission?

There is no time. The time draws near.

There was no mistaking it. It was no ordinary child that called to him within his hearing - it was Zander.

Zander?

There is no time to explain. I must show you.

Without another word, Max felt himself born into another world. It was not unlike the world Tess had led him to when she contacted him on Earth through her mind. The light was intense and bright. He felt like he was being bathed in the scorching flames of a purging fire - his mind being torn from his body.

'Finally,' the voice cried softly. 'You are here.'

The pain had ceased. He no longer felt the confines of his physical body - feeling weightless. It was an odd sensation.

Max opened his eyes to a sea of silvery light. Walled in what seemed to be a fascinating texture - shimmering and rippling as if a composite of water - he stood in awe. He could not imagine how such a place could exist, or did exist. Was it the creation of his son's mind?

'Daddy!'

'Zander?' Max spun around, searching for the location of the voice. The voice which had seemed so mature to his confused mind, now revealed its age.

'Please help me.' Before him a small figure of a boy appeared in front of him. Even though his body appeared to match that of his surroundings - a shimmery ripple - his features were distinctive, almost solidified.

Max's heart raced as he could feel a strong connection to the child. It was the same ache in his heart that he felt when he had bonded with the mere shell of his child within Tess' womb. Now here Zander stood, utilizing powers Max never dreamed his son would have, to reach out to him. 'Zander,' he whispered, holding out his hand to his child. 'I am here. Soon I will come to you.'

'You won't find me in time,' Zander spoke woefully. 'I know it. He has told me.'

'Who told you?'

'It doesn't matter.' Suddenly Zander's voice and demeanor changed - to someone arriving with purpose and duty. 'No time, Father. I came here to show you what you face. The time is drawing nigh.'

Behind Zander the rippling silver texture parted, as an ever-imposing eye opening for the first time, until there remained a dark circle framing his son's liquidous figure. The blackness faded and gave way to the image of the city of Eshtari. A bright light shone from the city he had admired only moments ago; it intensified and enveloped the night sky. What happened next came in brief flashes. He saw a dark claw-like hand, terrified expressions of men, women and children. Then came the screams and confused voices filling his ears as the light overtook hundreds if not thousands of people across the whole of Eshtari and its surrounding towns and villages. Lastly a jeweled crown held aloft; then the light died, more quickly than it had arrived, and within the opening Max surveyed the unconscious bodies of his people. Khivar stood looking down upon them from his tower, his eyes lost and wild. A smug wicked grin curled upon his lips and a familiar laughter echoed throughout the kingdom. It brought a shiver down Max's spine.

'Do not overestimate him, Father. He is capable of much,' Zander stated calmly. 'Mother and her companions have done as much as they could. We need you now. They,' he pointed to the pale faces that filled the open eye, 'will die or suffer a far worse fate than you can imagine.'

'How can I stop him from coming to power?' He said it as an afterthought, more stunned at the torment and pain one man could create and effect.

'The crown must sit upon your head. It is your right as blood heir to the throne,' Zander spoke as if recalling some long past recitation. 'No more shall the dark prince reign in Antar. Let your light shine upon your people. Let the Four return home and to their rightful place.'

Max stepped forward, kneeling before his son. 'I am coming for you and my people,' he whispered. 'Just hold on. Please, wait for me.'

Zander seemed to come out of his trance, and staring into Max's eyes, smiled. 'I knew you'd come for me,' said the small voice of a child. 'I knew you wouldn't leave me here.'

Before Max could say another thing, he felt himself jerked back, as if being sucked in by a vacuum. Darkness surrounded him, and as he gasped for breath, Max stood once again peering up that once bright city of light. Upon closer inspection he saw the light within the vision his son had shone him. He hadn't noticed it before. But as clear as the stars in the sky, it was there. And he felt his heart go out to that light, as if something drew him - calling him.

I am coming for you, Zander. Daddy is coming.

Isabel woke up feeling nauseous and clammy. She opened her eyes, her body recalling the fear and panic of the crash. "Max!" she cried out, sitting up with a start. "Max, where are you?"

Everything was dark. She was no longer in the carrier, the ship that they had stolen away from Mount Freiweils in. As her eyes adjusted to the night, Isabel could make out the cloth walls that surrounded her. She felt beneath her, and she lay upon some sort of makeshift cot. Where am I?

Suddenly she heard voices outside of the tent. They seemed confused and anxious. Her heart was pounding, as she was unaware of whether her captors were friend or foe.

Oh god, where are Max and Fadilia?

Were they dead? Were they being held elsewhere?

The voices ceased and it seemed with the rustling of the cloth that they were preparing to enter the makeshift prison/refuge. Licking her dry lips, she tested her legs, knowing her physical weakness before the crash. They seemed to hold her weight, and her balance seemed to have returned. Her eyes scanned the small space for a hiding place, but the tent was minimally equipped.

She didn't have the element of surprise, and she wasn't confident that she even had powers to defend herself with. Just breathe. As the tent flaps gave way, Isabel held her hands full front, prepared to blast anyone who came inches from her. "Who's there?" she hissed. "Identify yourself!"

"Princess Vilandra," a male voice coughed softly. "We are not here to harm you."

Isabel furrowed her brow, not quite ready to let down her guard. "Who are you?" she repeated her demand.

"I am Gibeon," a timid voice replied. "Warrant Officer Gibeon March."

Isabel remained tense, alert for any short sighted attack upon her. "And where am I?" she asked the shadowy figure. She would remain quiet about the others, just in case the stranger was lying and was indeed her captor.

"You are within the Loyalist camp, your Highness." He turned about face, bringing with him a small lantern, which he held in his left hand. He was younger than she. Sandy brown hair, with glowing dark green eyes. His stature was small, but he was fit. His muscular physique could still be seen under the dark tunic he wore. "We found you, King Zan, and Queen Mother Fadilia not far from our base camp."

"W-we crashed," she said softly, slowly lowering her hands. "And..."

"And we brought you here to recuperate," Gibeon explained. "As the king demanded."

"Where are they?" she asked suspiciously.

"I cannot bring you to the king," he said awkwardly.

"Why not?"

"He has gone."

"Gone?" Isabel felt her chest tighten at this announcement. It sounded suspiciously like a stall tactic. "And where has he gone?" she demanded, her voice strained.

"I-I..." He faltered.

Isabel strode towards him confidently, hoping to bring about some sense of fear or intimidation. "Where am I?" she said darkly. "No lies." Without thought, she reached out her hand and a bright light poured out from her palm and neatly wrapped itself around his neck.

He yelped, dropping the lantern and clawing at his throat. "I-I am not lying," he gasped. "Please."

Isabel stood in front of him now, only inches from his coloring face. She leaned in, her gaze not leaving his face and asked, "Where are they?"

"I-I..." he gasped, coughing for air.

"Isabel!"

Startled, she withdrew her power as Fadilia appeared from beneath the cloth flap. "Fadilia!" Her sudden appearance made Isabel's gaze drop back to the young man knelt before her gasping for air. She had nearly killed him.

"Take him away," Fadilia ordered to men standing outside the tent.

Isabel watched as two officers helped Gibeon to his feet and out of the tent. Their furtive glances set her on edge. "I-I didn't know," she whispered. "I wasn't sure..."

"I understand," Fadilia nodded. "It's all right."

"But where is Max? He said he was gone?!?" She glanced past Fadilia to the flap that just closed. She felt horrible about what she had done to him. He was on our side.

"He has left. There was no time to waste."

"Without me?" she cried incredulously. "I should have been..."

"In bed, where you were," Fadilia stated firmly. "And there was no argument about it."

Isabel was silenced by her commanding tone. She had almost sounded like her mother, Diane, on Earth. A shiver went down her spine. "Well, I'm better now," she said defiantly. "As that poor guy could attest to."

"I do not think you should go..." Isabel interrupted her.

"Don't try to stop me. I came here to finish what Khivar started. You can't talk me out of it."

"I was not trying to stop you," Fadilia said calmly, resting her hand upon Isabel's. Slowly she guided Isabel to the cot at the back of the tent. "But you cannot go where Max has gone. He took the only ship available."

"Then there has to be another way," Isabel protested, getting up from the cot. Pacing back and forth in the tent, she tossed around ideas in her head how to aid in the downfall of her enemy. "I won't be sidelined like this."

"Capt. Nuha and his forces have already left with their orders - leaving minimal personnel here at camp."

"Then I will go myself."

"The plasma field still remains intact. There is only a short span of time before it opens for a returning ship," Fadilia explained. "There will be no opening after that."

"And has it happened yet? Has the field gone down yet?"

"No, but..."

"Then I'll just have to make my way there before it does."

She could not be left behind during the battle. She had lost too much on Earth to this man - no, not man, monster. And Max leaving her behind - Isabel was livid with him. No doubt he had her best interests at heart, but he should have known better. She had come back from the brink of death - due to Khivar - so that she would have her revenge. No matter how much Fadilia and Max warned her about her motives, she would not be denied. She would see Jesse avenged.

"No, my child, we will."

"What?" Isabel frowned. "What did you say?"

"I told you in the carrier. I will not be separated from you again." Fadilia stood up, taking Isabel's hands in hers. "I will be with you on this night of atonement." She spoke with certainty. "Whether it be to death or glory."

Nicholas watched the closing horizon anxiously as they approached Eshtari. The reigning city, where over a hundred years of kings had come forth to rule with a powerful hand, shone - a bright light beckoning them home. "Khivar's plan has been put into effect," he mused quietly.

"Is that what that light is?" Barak asked curiously.

"Yes. He will soon be the chosen ruler of Antar." The thought sent chills down his spine. Nicholas knew his liege had been waiting for this moment for a life time. "Project Pilan will render Kedrans hapless and helpless - as well as many others," he said with a smug grin. "And as soon as the crown sits upon his head, the coronation will be complete. The Seal will be his and Royal Four or not, no one will be able stop Khivar."

"It sounds like a very complicated plan, Commander." Barak felt a wave of nausea sweep over him. Nicholas sounded final in the direction of Khivar's schemes.

"Complicated in the years of planning, my dear Barak, but simple in its execution," he informed. "When Project Pilan has finished its inexplicably confounding, yet destructive process, the whole of Antar will understand what it is to have a true ruler."

Barak knew there had to be a way to delay. Everything had begun to snowball since the confrontation at Mount Freiweils. Things had been a blur of semi-conscious choices. Now he was facing a monumental decision. From what Nicholas was talking about, if he allowed Project Pilan to be put into effect, there would be no stopping the already powerful Khivar. He glanced over at Nicholas who seemed to be admiring the light emanating from Eshtari.

If he took care of Nicholas now, it would be one less thing to worry about. But that could have been done at Freiweils, and it had not been an option. Was it one now?

Barak waited for a sign. The soft voice that nagged at him when confronted with the opportunity to be rid of the corrupt and malicious Iturian before him was now silent. Oh what am I to do?

"It's begun," Nicholas said, almost breathless at the beauty at the birth of Khivar's creation.

Barak followed Nicholas' gaze to where the pinpoint of light had begun to glow intensely. They witnessed its' slight pulsation, evident even from the distance at which they approached, grow until throbbing. The plasma field glittered atop the increasing energy source within its straining walls, as if ready to falter, giving way to the massive energy storage. "What is happening?" he gasped in fear.

"Wait and see." Nicholas steered the ship from its flight path, causing it to hover several hundred feet away. "This is about to change everything," he said gleefully. "We are all about to see our dreams realized."

When the plasma field seemed ready to burst under the intense pressure of the mysterious power source, it dispersed, as if someone knew it needed to be switched off. With no walls to stop the ever-spreading energy source, Barak watched in horror as it enveloped the whole of Eshtari, as well as its surrounding towns and villages - stretching so far as to touch their own aircraft.

It came with surprising speed, the blinding light sweeping over their ship, rocking it with the unexpected force of a tidal wave. Nicholas had underestimated the deftness at which Pilan could work. He swallowed hard, feeling himself, weakened by the energy swell. His body felt as if it had been softened in someway, and something slowly draining from him. It was a side effect Khivar had spoken about, but he had only mentioned it in passing, in regards to the Kedrans - not to him - his own right hand.

Barak stumbled, his mind swirling with questions and fears as to whether what he had done had just given Khivar the edge he needed to take over Antar in its entirety - and possibly the galaxy. The darkness came as with ebbs and flow. He struggled to remain conscious, anxious to see the consequences of his choice at Mount Freiweils, but he could not outlast the viscious pull of darkness that beckoned.

He knew it could be done. The architects doubted him, but he had pressed on. And now, as he basked in warm rays of his triumph, Khivar could never have been more pleased. As he looked down upon the sea of faces, who seemed stunned, delighted and in awe by, what he assumed, they thought was a light show.

They were unmoved. Puny scrattlings, who knew no better to run. So deserving, you are, then.

Khivar watched then, as the faces, young and old, melted into confusion and then morphed into fear and terror. Slowly Pilan began to wilt their statuesque bodies, as if sapping their ability to function physically, while some began to duck and scramble in the hopes of refuge from his mysterious machinations. No hope, my pretties.

"What are you doing?" an angry voice cried.

Khivar turned around to see the former mistress of the manor on her knees, straining towards him as his guards held her steadfast. She, herself, was of fair complexion, but as he gazed upon her now, her skin was ashen in palor. He could not hide his excitement.

He had heard many stories about the Royal Four's powers, but never had been witness to them. And by the appearance of both Ava and Rath, they did not have the strength to put up much of a fight. He was pleased beyond his wildest dreams. No one can stop me.

"Answer me!" she demanded.

"It hasn't even begun yet, my darling Ava. You have to await the finished product," he cooed. "You will be pleasantly surprised." He paused a moment and shook his head, with a smug grin. "No, let me amend that statement. Pleasant might not be the right word. Instead accept the phrase, 'you will be surprised'."

She fell back onto her knees, seemingly unable to find the strength to struggle against her captors. "This isn't over," she sneered. "Not by a long shot."

"Oh, you and your Earthen phrases," he chuckled, remaining unaffected by Pilan's growing hand upon the people. "It is quite the shame I will have to dispose of you after this. Though you will essentially be rendered powerless, I cannot allow icons such as you and Rath to remain - placing a seed of discontent and hope to the unsatisfied few."

"You wish you could," Rath muttered. "Or you would have done it by now."

"You imagine yourself important, don't you?" He eyed his long-suffering enemy, forced to submit to his will. "Perchance you dream of glory, in the stead of your once glorious king?" he mused. "And here alongside you, a make-shift queen?"

"You make me sick," Ava spat. "Such a twisted soul as yours will never reign over Antar."

"But what about an entire galaxy?" he bellowed, raising his hands to the lightening sky. "Can you see me as Emperor of the entire galaxy?" The thought sent shivers down his spine. He could almost taste it. The terror and fear he would evoke throughout the whole system - it would be a sight to behold.

"You're cracked," he heard Rath say under his breath.

So human his quips, yet they are powerless against my rising power.

"Our people will rise out of your ashes," a young steadfast voice spoke, "and build a kingdom more glorious than your blackened heart could invision."

Khivar hated those who would dampen his moment of glory. Spinning around he eyed the tall mouthy officer, who had been the one to tamper with his beautiful machine - Yasu, was his name - had crawled to the entrance of the balcony. "Mouthy in your moment of defeat?" he leered. "You will not be confident when I execute you first, boy."

"You would not be so confident if we weren't shackled," Rath sneered. "But you were always a cheat." "And look what it has achieved?" He grinned. Clapping his hands he gestured to his greatest achievement of all, lighting the night sky. "You cannot argue with success," he quipped. "And achieve it, I have."

"You always get your foot soldiers to your dirty work."

"But I seem to recall having the deepest pleasure of putting both you and Queen Ava, here, in your grave the first time." He hated the still smug expression upon Rath's face. He had always been too confident - much like his king. "And as it appears," he smirked. "I will have the pleasure again."

Spinning on his heel, he strode into the throne room. With a push of a button, the floor of the throne room opened on itself, a black void appearing in place of the oval pattern before the two thrones. Khivar raised a thin cylindrical device that fit neatly in the palm of his hand and brushed the pad of his thumb upon the thin redline sensor.

Out of the abyss rose a white pillar upon which hovered a polished, sparkling jeweled gold crown. The intricately carved pinnacles glistened under the light that shone above it. Its jewels handcarved with images of long ago - the symbols of the houses of Kedra and Ituria prominent upon the forefront of the headpiece.

Picking it up, he raised it above him, admiring the beauty of its symbolism. When he placed the crown upon his head, the power bestowed upon him, as well as the long sought-after Seal would be his. He had waited patiently. Never had he forseen, when he had overthrone Zan's reign and taken the lives of the Royal Four, that his preparations had been in vain. The seal had been extracted and he would never truly receive the honor he had rightfully taken. It had been years of meticulous study of the annals of Cian, before he had discovered the way - the way to take what had been craftily stolen out from under him. Zan had slowly flitted his time away during his years upon Earth, along with his right and claim to the Seal. Now as the Day of Light arrived, closing out the New Moon's Festival, Khivar would hae everything he wanted.

Walking out upon the balcony and peering down upon the now silent masses, whose only fears and screams could be heard by him now, Khivar lifted the crown above his head for their unseeing eyes. He felt it slip from his hands, lifted into the blinding light. The gold glowed brightly against the white light of the tower.

And as you are now, I will shine like the sun.

"Damn, he's such a freak!" Michael growled, not knowing what else to do. He hated being shackled - made helpless. It reminded him of the night Isabel lay in his arms, bleeding.

"Michael, we need to do something," Tess hissed. "Now."

"Well, I'm all up for ideas!" he exclaimed irritably. "Cause right now I've got nothing!"

When Khivar came out with the crown, he knew something was up. And when he lifted it up, as if to display it to the people, Michael knew it all had to do with his overall plan for dominion over Antar. But when it was taken up into the light, the mysterious power source that emanated from the tower, he felt his chest tighten. Whatever Pilan was doing, it had this eerie effect over the people. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Yasu's body slumped over, as if his energy had been sapped from his body.

God, what is happening!

"Michael, this is our only chance," Tess whispered. She felt faint herself, though not apparently as affected by Pilan as the full-blooded Antarians. Even the guards, as she surveyed their surroundings, seemed to be affected by its' powers. Leave it to Khivar to even use his own men.

"It may be," Michael said, glancing up at Khivar who seemed enamored with the crown hovering in front of him. "But we will need to get free of these shackles first." He would have loved nothing more to get his hands around Khivar's neck. "And then, I would gladly blast that stupid grin off his face."

"Well let me aide you in hastening that process," a hoarse voice whispered into his ear, tugging at the binds around his wrists.

Michael and Tess turned to see who had come to their aid. Michael did not recognize the stranger. But glancing over at Tess, it seemed to him that she knew the face.

Tess felt her heart skip a beat. It could not be. She had seen the body. How could...

"Andaria."

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