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Cibbie and Melissa walked back into the Den together, idly chatting about their drakes. Melissa was surprised that Amanda was clean of blood, not to mention how shiny her scales were; but then Cibbie told her that Flare had cleaned her after the events of the store entrance, mainly to keep her warm. She held Amanda close the whole time, stroking along her back while she slept soundly. She was let into the main pen area and Cibbie stopped for a moment to look about the area. There were a few Broodmaidens running here and there checking eggs, but other than that the general feel of the place was calmer than the other day. Few were yelling, even fewer were panicked.

"Is this the same place I was at the other day..?" She asked rhetorically.

A little freshly hatched blue drake came running down the hall at them, trying to get away from his tender, who was a few meters back running as fast as she could. Melissa idly held out a foot and caught the drake under his stomach, lifting him up into the air where she caught him with a spare hand. "I believe this one is yours, Rachael?" She asked.

"Yes, broodmistress." The handler replied, taking the struggling drake. "He escaped me when I was trying to feed him. It won't happen again."

"Yes it will." Melissa replied. "But at least try to keep on top of it next time, eh? Don't relax your grip until you're behind the clutch fence, else they go for a sprint."

"But you don't-" Rachael began, but stopped when Melissa put her hand around her arm and squeezed lightly, making the girl wince.

"I've a very firm grip." She said. "Now, off you go." She waved the girl away and led Cibbie on. Eventually they came to the large door that housed the Broodmother and Melissa put her palm to the panel beside the door. There was a beep, a click, and she pushed the door open. Cibbie walked in and was once again dumbstruck by the Broodmother. There's just something about a three storey tall dragon that does that to people.

"Hello again, Broodmother." Cibbie said carefully. The dragon nodded.

"Greetings, Sybil." She boomed, chuckling at the astonished look on her face. "What, you thought I couldn't speak?"

Cibbie shuffled her feet. "Well... I..." She blundered. "...Not really, no."

Again, the Broodmother laughed. "At least you're honest." She said. "That's good." She reached a huge claw over and tenderly scratched Amanda behind her ear. "She is injured?"

"She was attacked in my home by a not so gentleman." Cibbie said, turning Amanda over and showing the Broodmother the stitches. "He thought that he could destroy my morale by attacking her. His motives were simply because of what I am."

"You are Archethal, yet you are also Polaris." The broodmother said. "The uneducated can easily jump to conclusions."

"I'll come back for you later, Cibbie." Melissa said. "I've work to do and I still have one or two things to teach April. I'll come and get you when I'm done." She quickly fished a solid rubber ball from her pocket and tossed it to Cibbie. "Here, get the drakes to play with this while you chat to Shan'any." She stepped out the door and closed it behind her. Cibbie stood silent for a moment or two.

"Why do I get the feeling that this is an initiation test?" She asked, looking at the ball in her hand.

"Everything is a test." The broodmother said sagely. "Just count yourself lucky that you missed my laying today." Cibbie turned a curious eye to the dragon. "Let's just say it's not a time for the faint of heart and leave it at that." She said, holding up a hand and blushing furiously. "I find it embarrassing enough with my sister handling things."

Cibbie nodded and gently woke Amanda, poking her in ticklish spots and calling her name until her eyes opened. She licked Cibbie's hand and turned a curious eye to the Broodmother, sizing up the massive dragon. Amanda shrugged.

"Amanda, lookie." Cibbie said, holding the ball out. Amanda gave it a glance. "Go play with Venom while mummy has a talk with the nice dragon." The broodmother stifled a laugh.

"Nice?" She asked. "Look, missy; I could easily squash you flat, and if it were Monday I probably would."

"Whilst I'm holding Amanda?" Cibbie asked, giving a sly smile. "I doubt it, you'd not harm her any more than you'd harm your own sister."

"My achilles heel." The broodmother said, shrugging. "You tend to get a connection with your own blood."

Cibbie nodded, letting Amanda down to stand on the ground. She bounced the bright green ball of rubber a few times and Venom dawdled over, watching the sphere's every movement. Cibbie smiled and tossed the ball into a far corner.

"Go get it!" She said, watching the two young drakes scurry off, racing each other to the ball before she turned her attention back to the broodmother. "So..." She began weakly. "What're we supposed to talk about? You probably know more about society that I do." She finished.

"We could talk about you?" The dragon suggested.

"What would you like to know?" Cibbie asked, tilting her head.

"Well;" the broodmother began, tenting her hands infront of her, "are you in any kind of relationship at the moment?"

Outside, the broodmaidens and tenders did their duty haphazardly but efficiently. As far as they were concerned, it was a perfectly normal day; Melissa was being her usual fussy self, April had already dropped something - unimportant as it was - and the weather outside was warm. Granted, living in a massive dome under the surface of the moon meant evey day was beautiful, but to cause crops to grow efficiently and crop rotation to work, seasons were carefully introduced, as were rain patterns. The engineers in chage of the weather patterns had, cheekily, decided to go for a lazy approach to things, and would tell the weather reporters almost truths, causing some days that it was supposed to remain dry on to end up pouring with rain. Days and nights were regulated by a lighting system that worked on its own computer clock, and the rotation of the moon itself didn't change the time of day. They ran on the same time-clock as Earth, but as they orbited the planet, they had problems with calendars and dates. New Years was carefully planned into the first recorded year, and since then they have stayed on a 24 hour time spin, following London's UTC Z time carefully. The inhabitants of Earth found it odd to sleep with no stars in the sky, whereas the inhabitants of the Hoven found it weird for there to be lights on after bedtime when on Earth.

Melissa had just assisted in the feeding of some drakes near the Mother's room when the walls shuddered. Odd though it was, moonquakes were not uncommon, as the core of the moon had been liquified to keep the station more comfortable and easier to regulate, tectonic plates had been discovered. Thinking nothing of it, Melissa went back to dishing out the cooked drake feed until the walls shuddered again. She gave a worried look to the other end of the hall, making sure no egg pens had fallen down.

"That was a weak one." Melissa said idly, putting the pot onto the wooden table and lowering the bowls of food to the drakes. April dawdled over.

"That can't have been a moonquake." She mumbled. "The floor didn't shake but the walls did."

"That makes no sense." Melissa said. "What could cause tha-" She was cut off by another, heavier shaking and the door to the Broodmother's room slammed down as Cibbie flew into the hall, unconsious. She could hear her sister roar in anger and inhale. "Get away from the door!" She yelled, rushing over and standing in the doorframe. "April, grab an exinguisher!"

Flames flew through the doorway, engulphing Melissa as she used herself as a barrier. Flames licked around her but didn't go much more than a few feet from her back. Ash fell around her feet as the flames died down and she breathed heavily. Now she was naked, not that this was the first time that her sister had caused it though; but this was indeed going to be an eye opening experience, for her sister at least. April put the few fires that flared around the door out and a pair of maidens rushed over with spare clothes for Melissa. Being fireproof and highly resistant to heat was one of her only advantages over her sister, and being capable of yelling extremely angrily was another. She ignored the clothes offered, instead lifting the door and slotting it back into place as she stood in the room with her sister and the cowering little drakes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" She yelled. "Assaulting a guest? Didn't I talk to you about doing that last time!?" The massive dragon cowered from her sister, something that would have impressed Cibbie had she been awake. "You could have killed her, Shan'any, what were you thinking!?"

"She said-" The dragon started, but was cut off.

"I don't care what she said, dammit!" Melissa yelled. "You wanted to have a conversation and asked her something that you didn't like the answer of, obviously!" Melissa sighed and pulled the door down, taking the clothes offered and pulling them on. "What'd you ask her, anyway?"

"I asked her if she was in a relationship and she said she thinks so." The dragon said, trying to get to voice level that was audible only to them. "And I asked who she was interested in."

"And?" Melissa pushed, ushering the maidens out so that their conversation could be private. "Who was it?"

"... Flare." The reply came.

Melissa shook her head. "Is that all?" She asked, making it seem like that wasn't anything important. "Look, Shan'any; Flare may be our brother, and you might not like his decision to be with her, but it's their choice, not ours."

"But!"

"No buts, Shan'any!" Melissa snapped. "You were the same bloody way with Richard!"

The broodmother stayed quiet, staring at the floor with a miserable and apologetic look on her face. Melissa sighed and stepped out of the room. She grabbed a nearby Broodmaiden and pushed her into the room.

"You're to look after Venom and Amanda until Miss Heritance is awake again." She snapped. "Keep them entertained and give them treats for good behavior. You know the usual drill."

"Yes, Broodmistress."

Melissa pushed her way past the Maidens standing about and lifted Cibbie onto her shoulder. "Shouldn't you all be working?!" She yelled angrily. "Show's over!" And with that she walked to the kitchenette where they prepared drakes' meals, putting her on the small bed in the corner and sighing as she leaned against the benchtop. She stood there for a short while before making up her mind, grabbing a laptop and going back to her sister's room where she wrote on the massive chalkboards in a language she barely understood.

An hour later, Cibbie awoke in the kitchen faintly aware of pressure on her chest. She carefully opened her eyes to find the lights in the room turned off, and she could hear frantic yelling and searching in the main hall outside the room. Slowly she looked down to find the little blue drake from earlier in the afternoon curled up on her middle. She carefully lifted him from his resting place and stood up, holding him tightly. His face turned up to hers with an indignant look.

"I guess they're all looking for you, huh?" She asked, getting an angry hiss in reply. "I'll take that as a yes." She mumbled, a slight giggle to her tone. She walked to the door and slowly swung it open to find Melissa's back right in front of her. It had to be Melissa, because she was giving all the orders. Cibbie tapped her on the shoulder. "Lose someone?" She asked, holding the drake out.

Melissa turned and gave a pleasently surprised look. "You found him!" She chimed. "The little mite hopped the fence and escaped while no-one was looking, where did you find him?"

"He was sleeping on my chest." Cibbie replied, handing the drake to Melissa. "I'm amazed that nobody looked in there."

"The door was closed..." April said, jogging over. "How could he have gotten in?" Cibbie sighed.

"Look;" she said, demonstrating the door, "it swings in, he probably nudged it shut behind him so as not to arouse suspicion."

"Thanks for finding him." April happily said, giving Cibbie a light hug. "We'll keep our eyes on him in future."

Cibbie brushed her off. "I hope so." She said sarcastically. "I might not be sleeping in there next time."

"Anyway;" Melissa started, "I'm taking you back to the Mother's room. April, could you take this little one back to his Clutch? Be careful with him."

"Yes, Broodmistress." April replied, taking the drake and walking off.

"Come along now, don't dawdle; the reds are riled up and they tend to flare when like that." Melissa snapped, walking down the hall.

"Oh, right." Cibbie mumbled. "Coming, Broodmistress."

For a couple of minutes they walked down the long hall. Melissa stopped here and there to sign something or show Cibbie something important; but at one point she just stopped by some ruined egg pens and sadly stared at them before continuing. Cibbie struggled to keep up, but managed to get alongside her after a short while.

"I don't mean to pry, broodmistress, but..." She started.

"You want to know why I stopped by the destroyed pens." Melissa finished for her. "I know. I don't like to go past them if I can help it, but being in my position I have no real way of stopping it." She sighed heavily as she put her hand on the panel next to the door to the Mother's room. "My late husband Richard, and my last drake Blaze died there trying to save eggs from being destroyed when the pens toppled. Only three eggs survived the accident, one of which was your Amanda."

"I'm... Sorry to bring it up." Cibbie said.

"It's alright." melissa reassured her. "I still have my sister, she helped me through the worst of it. Incidentally, we spent the time you were out giving your Amanda a physical, and I've concocted a medecine you should give her to help her growth; we took the liberty of sending it to your apartment." She pushed the door open and let Cibbie in before entering and closing it behind herself. "I advise giving her the first dose tomorrow at breakfast." She added. The top of the doorframe had been wooden and had disintegrated in the flames, leaving a good sized gap of roughly two inches creating a slight breeze with the ventilation. Cibbie was tackled by Amanda, who was pleased to see her.

"Hello, Amanda." Cibbie chimed. "Have you been a good girl playing with Venom?" The little dragon licked Cibbie's chin as she scrabbled to climb up to her face. "That's a yes." Cibbie giggled, putting the young drake down and picking up the ball. She bounced it a few times to get Venom's attention once more and then threw it into a far corner. "Off you go!" The young dragons, happy to have something to chase, scrambled off after the ball, their claws scratching at the floor noisily. Cibbie watched them play fight each other over the ball until she was tapped on the head by what could only have been a large claw. "Yes, Broodmother?" She asked nonchalant, not even bothering to turn.

"I... Wish to apologise for my earlier behavior." She rumbled

Cibbie shook her head and turned around. "It's alright, you didn't do any lasting damage." She said. "I'm a little bruised, but I did get thrown through a door." She put a furred palm to the huge dragon's face. "I forgive you."

The broodmother smiled. "Thankyou." She said. Her mood lightened and she moved, giving Cibbie a chance to see a large blackboard on the wall opposite her. Cibbie wandered over and looked at the large lettering. "Do you recognise the symbols?" The broodmother asked.

"... Vaguely..." Cibbie replied.

"I imagined you might." The dragon said. "They are words written in Archethalian; it is a difficult language to decipher, but from the curvatures and sharp points, they are of an old dialect."

"Do'rahmen Inuleht..." Cibbie mumbled, moving a hand underneath a pair of letters.

The broodmother stirred. "The writings we found in an online archive posted by the archaology team on your homeworld. They hoped that someone would be able to translate their meaning."

"I... Think I remember this." Cibbie mumbled. "It's an old folk-song. Mythological stuff..."

"Your brother, when he was here once upon a time, had a small book with him that he left with me." The dragoness continued. "The writings in one of the chapters and you see before you are the same. He told me that the song was written in the age that your people called the 'Rebirth by Fire'. He once said that it was one of your favourite songs."

There was a sharp wail that Melissa and the Broodmother turned to see what the noise was. Amanda had just accidentally kicked Venom harder than the intended to, and apologetic looks were being sent to and fro. Content that everything was fine, Melissa walked over and grabbed the rubber ball to throw it. With the drake's eyes on the ball and her sister watching, Melissa stopped. She turned her head curiously to Cibbie, who was staring at the writing on the board. She had begun singing, quietly at first, but slowly she became louder, probably unaware that she was gaining any volume at all.

"Do'rahmen Inhuleht N'urehmahl, Inishen Ithulesh Archethal Archethal..." She sung, her voice now echoing through the room and out the gap in the door.

The young drakes stopped their playing and watched her, as did the Broodmother; the Broodmaidens out in the hall gathered by the door and even the drakes out in the hall stopped to listen to her singing. Her voice was mournful yet melodious, the size of the room causing the echo to reverberate at just the right time to make he sound like she was backed by a choir. The effect was eerie, Melissa admitted to herself, but something about the song made her walk forth and join in when Cibbie restarted. The two sung in near harmony, Melissa careful to catch the same tones and phonetics that Cibbie was effortlessly singing, as if she were singing something she knew by heart. Cibbie stopped at the last word, and Melissa gave her a sideways glance. A single tear had run down her face, and Cibbie now stared at the words as if remembering a horrible dream. Her gaze lowered slightly and a playing card wedged into the chalkboard. Cibbie idly looked at it, the Queen of Diamonds. Her mouth moved to form words, but no sound came out.

"A beautiful rendition;" Delta stated, "but the ability to sing it without knowledge of the words meaning does not do them justice."

She walked past the strangely docile Broodmother and took the chalk. Soon she had scribbled out the English translation to the symbols on the board and she put the chalk back down with a sigh.

"The song refers to a time in your people's history known as the 'Age of rebirth'." She said. "Before this time, the Archethal had always been stricken by wars and constant bloody feuds that almost drove you into extinction. Though the song has the ring of truth about it, it makes no sense as it referrs to an 'angel', a mighty divine being who descended from the heavens to teach them civility. Michael shall be here in a second, your first lesson with Ace has bee scheduled. Before you ask how I can translate, you need to know that I'm a woman of many talents."

Sure enough, Jay and Michael walked in the door about ten minutes later.

"Sybil, you are to come with me." Jay said sternly.

"Don't call me Sybil." Cibbie snapped, with all the sharpness of a soggy twig. "Cibbie is fine." Jay shook his head bitterly.

"I must call you by your name, Miss Heritance. If I don't fall back on simple protocol then I can get a little confused." He said. "Now come along, we have much to discuss."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

President Washington and Hazard walked into the room together, his eyes on Cibbie, hers on the Broodmother.

"I've never been in here before." She breathed, looking up at the massive, magnificent dragon in awe. "You're wonderfully radient, Broodmother..." The huge dragon giggled girlishly and carefully put her face next to the president's. She cautiously nuzzled the human's face before pulling her head back up and returning her gaze to her sister.

"We have discovered information. Important information concerning the future of your species, and as the 'ruler' of your people, you must listen." Michael said coldly. Behind him, Brenton walked into the room; he looked harassed and tired, and his jaw almost dropped when he noticed the chalkboard, but he made no move to approach it. Michael continued, filling the gap of silence. "Jay will fill you in on your way to your scheduled destination today."

Jay threw a helmet to her and stepped back towards the door. "Come with me; when we've teleported down to Earth, we'll be riding to the location."

Things were going too fast for her to keep up now, and she weakly looked about the room with a confused expression bordering on desperate. Washington stepped forth and wrapped an arm around her.

"I know that this is a lot to take in all at once, and it can be extremely daunting if you're not used to it, but you're a leader now and you have responsibilities that you must obey; don't be alarmed, don't panic or worry, Hazard and I will try to help you along the way."

"What's the point in me ruling a people that are extinct..?" Cibbie weakly asked. "It's not like me and my brother can repopulate legally, and I very much doubt that I'd..." Washington shook her lightly.

"Don't worry, we've had plans in place for this since before the Archethal were wiped out; we'll deal with your diminished peoples."

Weakly Cibbie nodded and started to walk, following Jay out of the building, where they both vanished in a flash of light. Michael, Rose and Brenton were a short way behind them, carrying Amanda and Terry, and they also vanished in a flash of light.

Jay and Cibbie rematerialised down on Earth, in a rather warm part of Australia. Cibbie could feel her temperature starting to rise already, and she began panting automatically. Jay helped her get the helmet onto her head and opened the visor.

"Okay, when you're on the back, don't lean on corners; just sit, act like you're a part of the bike." He instructed. "If we have an accident, hold onto me tightly, I'll keep us safe, keep your hands on my waist. Listen to what I say to you through the headphones in the helmet. You can respond by pushing this button here-" He demonstrated by guiding her hand to a button on the side of the headgear. "Keep your arms and legs to the vehicle at all times, it is very easy to lose one on the open road. Allow me to get on first, and I'll keep it balanced while you climb on, that'll help me get a feel for your extra weight added to the bike."

True enough, Jay led her to a large, powerful looking sport model motorcycle. It was, predictably, green and black; and great effort had gone into making it as streamlined as posible, yet armoured like a tank, a large scabbard rested along one side of the bike, sword sheathed within tightly. Jay swung his leg over the bike and clicked it off the stand, motioning her over.

"D-don't you need one of these?" She asked, pointing to the helm on her head. He shook his head.

"Nah, I'm all metal, remember? I came off my last one rather harshly, and the only thing that was broken that wasn't the bike was the helmet I was wearing, no damage to my skeletal structure or anything; I'm very sturdy." He replied, using the intercom. "Don't fret, if we come off, I'll keep you safe; just hold tight and let my reflexes work." She nodded and carefully climbed onto the back, put her hands weakly onto his waist and closed the visor.

"Alright, here we go." Jay said, starting up the bike with a roar. "We're going down Boomerang Freeway; there is no speed limit, so I'll be driving pretty fast, just hold on tight and listen to what I tell you."

He pulled back on the throttle and they were off, cruising gently in the suburbs while he talked to her.

"You were seperated from your brother today so that the other, more senior Dozen could interrogate him without you interrupting with constant worries for his well-being." Jay said, to which she felt a little betrayed. "He has told us some very important information on the Polaris, and on Jack, but most importantly he's given us some information on your homeworld, primarily the once proud capitol city you called home. We're entering the freeway now and it looks pretty empty, I can hit roughly two hundred on this thing with two mechanicals, and you're much lighter than we are. If you're getting too much wind resistance, just tell me." He pulled back on the throttle more, released the clutch and they were off, the engine roaring as Jay soon had it in sixth gear. There were few cars out here where the sun beat down hard, and the mid summer heat made the road surface hot, not that the wheels were bothered by this; long ago the solution to the waste of burst tires had been solved by making them solid rubber, which increased their life-span dramatically and the specific makeup of the wheels made them much better at gripping the surface, which opened vehicles up to all sorts of possibilities; Motorcycles could now do far more tricks and were far safer on corners at higher speed, the wheels capable of carrying them at near-vertical angles.

"Anyway," Jay's voice called after a minute or two, "You will be accompanying me and the rest of your classmates to your homeworld. The archaeology team requires military assistance, the regiment sent out has run into trouble, and your brother has given us information that may prove vital not only to the archaologists, but to your species as well. It will be a two-day-long trek there by ship, which will give you plenty of time to socialise with the other students. Hold on tight."

He swerved around a car which moved after them, chasing the smaller vehicle mercilessly. Despite the bike's lighter frame, the car kept up, hounding at them at every turn. Jay glimpsed inside the windscreen for a moment before returning his eyes to the road.

"Looks like you've attracted some attention." He said.

"What? But I look like any other citizen!" Cibbie gasped as they narrowly dodged the car again.

"You were leaked by Angela Red, people know what you are and what you look like. Hold as tightly as you can, this'll take some doing."

They swerved and dove through and past cars and trucks, some of whom joined the chase. A pair of semi-trailer trucks took up position in front of them and Cibbie heard Jay growl to himself.

"Then we'll go over!" She heard him yell. For a split second she saw one of his feet hit the road and the bike heaved, leaping up onto the roof of one of the trucks. "I advise again, hold tight."

The bike lurched once more and leapt off the roof of the truck, bouncing on the road and speeding off at high speed. Jay turned them off the freeway and down into the suburbs, where they soon reached a small house that they stopped in front of. One of the cars, a pitch-black BMW, was still chasing them; and Jay stood in front of Cibbie as the car sped towards them. Cibbie grabbed the bike and pulled it up the yard, and the car struck Jay.

Normally, when a car hits something, the car keeps going and whatever is in the way ends up pancake shaped. Normally, when a human-shaped creature is in the path of a car, they try to get out of said path. Not only was it abnormal that Jat stood ramrod still, but it was certainly odd when he punched the bonnet, crushing the engine and causing the car to flip completley over him. It landed on the bitumen behind him, showering the road and Jay in broken glass as it rolled over and over. Jay sighed.

"Sybil, throw me the sword on the side of the bike. Kickstand is on the bottom." He said.

Carefully Cibbie put the bike on its stand and removed the sword and scabbard, throwing it haphazardly to Jay, who caught it and walked to the car. The occupants were fine, but trapped and rather bewildered that he had managed to destroy their expensive car so easily and effortlessly. Jay looked in the window at them.

"Are you two unharmed?" He asked, to which they nodded. "Good. Don't move."

He unsheathed the sword, which fizzled as a pink glow of energy covered the blade. He swung it a few times and the door on his side of the car fell out, loudly banging onto the bitumen and smashing more glass. Idly Jay reached into the car, tore the first man from the wreckage and dumped him onto the road before pulling the second man out and doing the same. Jay hilted his sword, clipped it to his belt, and pulled the larger man from his feet.

"If I were still human, I'd be dead." He growled. "And your intentions to assassinate royalty have not gone unnoticed. I suggest you go to a phone and call a towtruck, because the line in my head is currently calling the local police."

A police car meandered around the corner, stopping out front the house. An officer got out.

"I'll take them from here, commander Jay." He said, manhandling the two men into the car.

"Alright." Jay replied. "I'm going to be here for a short while yet, if you need video evidence, you'll know where to find me. Sybil, leave your helmet on the bike, I'll deal with it and be right in; it's too warm out here for you, get inside."

Cibbie nodded, doing as she was told, and knocked on the front door, where she was met by a woman.

She was about Michael's height, and she looked quite alot like him. Or maybe it was the other way around, as her hair was graying and she looked a fair amount older. She gave a flat look into Cibbie's face, as if trying to remember who this might be, before she looked a bit frightened. Michael ran into view and wrapped an arm around the woman.

"Cibbie, I'd like you to meet my mother." He said, shaking the woman slightly. "Mum, this is Sybil Heritance-"

"The Polaris." She growled.

"No, mum." He snapped. "She's Archethal. She's Highness Cibbie Hetiance of the Archethal throne; royalty mum. She's the owner of Amanda, mum."

The woman trained a disbelieving eye on Cibbie, who smiled and shrugged.

"She's also adopted into our family, at least, that's what those legal documents I signed say." Michael added. "Much like Rose in that respect. Give her a chance, please?"

Cibbie swayed a little, and her vision started to blur; something that Michael's mother noticed. Cibbie was panting heavily, and she was becoming increasingly woozy.

"Are you alright miss?" She asked, to which Cibbie shook her head.

"I feel sick." She groaned. Michael gently pushed his mother aside and pulled Cibbie in the door, moving her to the bathroom and shoving her head into the bathtub, turning the faucet on and covering her in cold water.

"You're hyperthermic, Cibbie." He said with a worried tone. "What're you wearing under this top?"

"My bathing suit." She groaned. Michael stood her upright, pulled her top off, and pushed her into the water again.

"Is this any way to treat royalty?" Michael's mother asked.

"It is if she's close to being sick all over your floors, mum." Michael snapped.

"I must say, it's an amusing way to treat someone in such a position."

"I swear, if I die from this, I'm going to haunt the hell out of you." Cibbie growled comically.

Michael sighed. "This won't be enough." He said. "This is just getting you out of the worst of it, I'm going to get Jay to drag your heavy ass out back into the pool."

"But your father is out back right now..." Michael's mother said.

"Then you better go tell him to put the fur filter nets in." Michael growled, pulling Cibbie's shoes off and grabbing a spare towel from the closet.

Cibbie, whose mind was having difficulty keeping up, turned her eyes on Michael. "Did you just call me fat..?" Michael chuckled.

"Yes, now shut up and try not to think. You're overheated, when we get you to the pool, try to float."

"I've got metal limbs, you dickhead." She growled. "I sink naturally."

Michael's mother hurried out of view, and Jay dawdled into the room, standing at attention.

"Jay, take her out back and get her in the pool." Michael ordered, manhandling her pants off, much to her chagrin. "Go!"

Jay pulled her from the tub, wrapping his arms around her and heaving her through the house. Michael was in hot pursuit, carrying her clothes and the towel. They were met at the back door by his mother.

"Your father put the filters in, but he's turned on the heater." She said.

Michael sighed. "Did you tell him who this is for?"

"I..."

"That's a yes." Michael mumbled as Jay leapt the pool fence and into the water. There were dozens of family members about, the small house being used for a reunion for the second time in six years, and they practically ran for cover when they noticed who Jay's passenger was. Rose, however, sat on the fence and watched idly. "Alright, I'll deal with the heater, you grab some ice. We need to lower her temperature quickly." He ushered her into the house, striding past and up to his father, at the pool's heater. The large man, stubborn though he was, wouldn't dare to challenge Michael, not with Rose nearby; but he didn't make it easy for Michael to reach the off switch. "If I don't turn it off, she is going to die." Michael warned.

"So what?" His father growled. "She's the enemy!" Someone tapped his shoulder and he turned to see Brenton, who was currently in only bathing shorts and with an ice cold drink in his other hand, standing behind him with quite an unhappy face.

"So's he." Michael quipped.

"If you want to kill my sister, it'll be over my dead body, you fatass." Brenton growled, flicking the switch off. "Leave my sister alone and go cook your damned barbeque." Brenton finished, turning and walking away.

Michael's father pulled back a fist in protest, but Michael grabbed his arm.

"I wouldn't." He said. "He will kill you."

The bulky man growled and relented, the number of people in the area that could kill him in a heartbeat had increased dramatically since his son had adopted his granddaughter, and he wasn't in any rush to start a fight that he would easily lose, remembering all too well the day he had met her. Michael hurried over and caught up with Brenton, who seemed to be faring rather well in the blazing summer sun.

"How do you cope..?" Michael asked "It's gotta be, what, thirty eight celcius today, yet you're not even panting."

Brenton turned and grinned a little, holding out his drink. "Hold this and I'll show you." He said. Michael took his cold drink and followed him to the pool, where he knelt down and put his hand in the water. "Roughly eighteen celcius, cooling slightly..." He mumbled to himself before pulling his hand out. "Two percent should do." An almost black whisp of blue fire jolted from his hand, causing the water directly under his hand to freeze into a small iceberg, and the rest of the pool to become crystal clear, For the split second that the blue fire was present, Michael could almost feel all of the warmth being sucked out of the air. Brenton stood back upright and took his drink back.

"But why aren''t you covered in fire then?" Michael asked, to which Brenton chuckled.

"It only shows as fire in a significant quantity, anything higher than one percent. I don't need to be so drastic, and I'm only using less than point one percent to cool the air around me." Brenton explained nonchalant. "Any more than ten and I could freeze a being solid. Don't worry, though, I can't access more than roughly fifty unless I Trump." He chuckled lightly, watching one of Michael's aunts fish a drink from an eski. "I'm great at this sort of event." He said, walking over and tapping the bottle, watching the brown glass gather frost before his very eyes. "Y're welcome."

Michael tugged him 'round the corner to talk with him privately. "Be careful who you show that power to." He growled. "The Dozen are not public, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Brenton replied. "Has Cibbie been told about..?"

Michael looked about nervously, waiting for a distant cousin to walk out of hearing distance. "No, she doesn't know why we're holding this here, or that Saharah is even missing."

"D'you think she'll..?"

"She'll be pleased." Michael said. "Trust me, Saharah has surprisingly good taste."

"If you say so." Brenton mumbled. "Who is bringing the-"

"Everything has been planned; don't worry." Michael interrupted. "Everything except my father, of course. He'll try to ruin things if he finds out, that's why Jay is here."

Brenton gave a humourless laugh. "I swear, that guy has the shortest fuse. I could push the right buttons just asking for the time."

"He won't mess with Jay or Rose." Michael replied. "Rose has, in the past, knocked him out cold, and he knows that he can't harm Jay." He tugged his collar nervously. "He shouldn't mess with me, either; not with Sparkplug in my pocket." He hazarded a glance over to the pool to see Cibbie climbing out. "I advise you go to your sister, Archethal have a peculiar way of dealing with heatstroke."

"How is that?"

"First you get better." Michael informed. "And then you get almost suicidally gloomy."

Brenton had been sitting with his sister in the corner for almost an hour. She'd been through several different stages of depression, crying, angst, more crying, slight fury, yet more crying, and, of course, the silent treatment. He wouldn't leave her side, requesting Terry to fetch them a pair of drinks, which he dutifully went and got. Brenton's was a beer, but Cibbie had to make do with an orange soda. She had asked why she couldn't have an alchoholic drink, to which Brenton informed her that the very last thing she needed at that time was a depressant like alchohol. This had set off the silent treatment, but she knew, deep down, that he was right. Amanda had been extremely happy with all the people, being fussed over and petted, given little tidbits of meat, she was in heaven. Until, of course, Michael's father kicked her to get her away from him, calling her 'damned freaky lizard'. She had whipped around, walked back up to him and used her frost breath to freeze his foot, encasing it in ice. Before he could retaliate, she scurried away to Cibbie, who had watched the whole thing and gave the large man a deserving glare.

After the hour was over, Saharah and Flare walked into the yard from within the house. Saharah dawdled over to Michael while Flare turned to Cibbie and Brenton, sighed, and sat on her other side.

"Let me guess." He began, his voice going to continue.

"Heatstroke." Brenton informed.

"Thought so." Flare grumbled. "Alright, c'mon." He said, tugging Cibbie from the floor. "Let's go get you something with cocoa in it, that'll help."

He practically dragged her across the yard, stopping only at the table with food on it to grab her a piece of chocolate from a platter. One of the women, clearly a mother, gave a disapproving glance that Flare replied to.

"Archethal become dismally gloomy after hyperthermia, or heat stroke." He informed her. "What better way to cheer her up than with chocolate?"

"She hasn't eaten her main meal yet." The woman grumbled. One of her kids wandred over and mumbled into her ear. "No, you can't have any chocolate! See what you've started?"

Cibbie, having finished the piece she was eating, gave a sigh and brushed Flare off. With a quick kick of her metal leg, she leapt into the air, gracefully flipping over and landing on the roof of the house.

"I'm not wanted here, obviously; so I'll go my way and trouble you no-" She called, being cut off when a gunshot rang out and her right shoulder practically exploded, showering Flare in her blood and toppling her back off the roof. The plastic cover on the food caught any blood that may have struck the edibles, but Flare quickly dashed forth and caught her before she struck the ground. Flare turned his shocked face to the crowd around him.

"Stay back!" He yelled. "If you're not a doctor, stay the hell back! Michael, Brenton; that came from the front yard! Jay, call a code blue!"

Michael turned to find Brenton, but he couldn't see him anywhere in the yard. "Where the hell did he go?" He mumbled, before the air above him began to cool, and he looked to the roof.

Brenton stood on the roof of the house, blue fire swirling around him and frost forming on the tiles below him. A bullet slammed into the almost black fires around him and stopped, gathering ice before succumbing to gravity and tapping against the now ice ridden tile roof. Michael ran through the house, followed close by Rose, and thundered out the front door just in time to see a vehicle, black and without plates, freeze to the road. Four men around the car changed their targets to Michael, who backpedalled behind Rose. A bullet bounced off the scaling on her arm as she ran towards the nearest man and slammed him through the van's closed side door. Brenton landed down from the roof, the fire around him now gone and snarled, his arm changing back into the gun that it was. The two hidden blades slid out with a loud, metallic smack, and Michael held his own pistol out at arm's length.

"General Michael Starfury, Hunter's Guild!" He shouted. He turned his head to acknowledge Brenton. "Brent, go to your sister."

"But-"

"Now!" Michael yelled, watching as Rose lifted another man from his feet and slammed him against the side of the van. "Trust me, we can handle this, your sister needs you."

"But..!"

"A code blue in a suburban area gets police here, they will assist us; for now, get back to your sister. She needs you to keep her cool, you can't do that from here." Michael growled.

Brenton, defeated, rushed back through the house, his arm returning to its alternate, useful state as he slid to a stop next to Cibbie.

"How is she?" He asked Flare, as Cibbie had been knocked out from the force of the bullet.

"She should be alright." Flare mumbled. "Through and through, it looks worse than it is. I'm not medically trained, there is very little I can do but keep her comfortable. I could cauterize the wound, but that leaves no space to heal."

Michael's mother hurried over, a large stack of gauze in her hands. "Put pressure on both sides of the wound." Terry said from her shoulder. "Don't let it bleed from either side as much as it is."

Flare nodded, taking the gauze and putting some beneath Cibbie's shoulder, pushing the rest of it onto the front of her wound. Already she was going paler than she was before. Brenton leaned forth, holding a finger out.

"Move the gauze." He said, to which Flare complied. Brenton put his finger to the wound, a tiny blue flame flaring between his fingertip and his sister's shoulder, and the blood around the bullethole froze, the bleeding slowing somewhat. "Pressure, c'mon, c'mon!"

A flash of light behind them got Brenton to turn and stand, giving the medics enough space to gain access to his sister. They moved her to the stretcher, whipped her inside and began to operate. Brenton sighed, returning a glare to Michael's father across the yard. This was, indeed going to be a long, long day.

The medics finished in roughly ten minutes, advising that she not use her shoulder for another three hours and that they coat the trauma site with sealing agent after changing her bandages every morning and night. Brenton had barely been listening, just thankful that his sister, his last blood relative, was still alive after such a sudden attack. The police had arrived, arrested, and left already, getting statements from Jay and Rose before leaving. Now that the surge of adrenaline was over, he was silently watching her from a chair, his hands cleaned of the blood that he had managed to get on them after helping his sister. He was going over it in his head over and over...

His trump, his new most powerful weapon, had reared its ugly head, and it had been potent indeed. Bullets couldn't touch him, the very air around him had become rigid, and he had such control. The van had frozen in its place before the car had even managed to get out of first gear, and he hadn't had to go near it, yet the yard behind him had stayed relatively safe! He sighed and leaned back into the chair, taking a soda offered by Terry before lifting him into his lap.

"She's going to be alright." He said. "They fixed the damage for what they could without being magicians and she'll make a full recovery." He gave a curious look over to his owner. "She's got very bad luck, but she is very sturdy. They didn't have to use much blood during the operation, either."

Jay walked into the room and stood next to Brenton's chair. "Well, we don't need to worry about Mr. Starfury." He said. "You're my priority now."

"How do you mean, Roy?"

"Three." Jay began, pulling his card from a pocket. "You are wondering about your new Trump, yes?"

Brenton nodded. "What do you know, Ace?"

Jay put his card away. "Your new Trump is called Glacial Cradle. It took King and I many weeks to design. While your sister's Trump, the Vengeance, makes her stronger, faster and far more resilient, like making her a moving wall of iron; yours surrounds you with Dark Matter, about twenty four to thirty percent, giving you roughly the same resistances as her. It requires much the same as hers to activate, grevious injury or psychological damage to a loved one, but you can activate yours when need be. However, instead of being a walking fortress, your Trump gives you long ranged capabilities equal to those of Four or Ten. You do not become invincible, concentrated attacks can still push through your shielding, but you can increase your defences depending on the concentration your allow yourself to be engulphed in. Total concentration can, and will, kill anything and everything around you unless it has resistance to that much cold such as Pride or myself." He crossed his arms and looked over Cibbie from where he was standing. "This wasn't exactly what we had planned." He mumbled. "People have no sense of courtesy these days."

"Terry, would she be hungry when she wakes?" Brenton asked. Terry tilted his head.

"After the initial grogginess and confusion wears off, she should be." He informed. "However I advise against any trips to the pool, and she needs to have that arm in a sling as much as possible until she has healed fully."

The trio stayed in silence for a while until Amanda dawdled into the room. She sniffed up at the stretcher for a moment before leaping up onto it, crawling along her master's stomach and curling up in the crook of her unharmed arm, nuzzling Cibbie with a depressed whine. Brenton stood up and reached for her, but she snarled and snapped at his fingers, causing him to pull back.

"Drakes, when their master has been harmed, will become very protective." Flare said from the door. "It's something in their genes." He sighed and stared out across the yard. "I'm sorry, Mr. Heritance, I failed to fulfill my duty as a bodyguard and your sister has become seriously injured as a result."

Brenton chuckled. "Don't worry too much about it, she's still alive and that's all that matters."

"Michael's going to have your guts for garters." Jay mumbled.

"Yeah, there is that."

"And Hazard'll have stern words."

"I guess..."

"Not to mention what Sybil will say when she wakes."

"Okay, okay!" Brenton snapped. "So he's in trouble, big deal! Look, she's alive, isn't that what's important? She'll heal and give you another chance to botch it up, maybe next time you'll make it more spectacular, and she'll still give you another go." He sarcastically finished, getting a small chuckle from Flare.

"You're a little bastard, you know that?" He rhetorically asked, turning the corner and scruffing up Brenton's hair. "But you're also right, I should stop beating myself up over this."

"Yeah, there're plenty of others who'll do it for you."

"Don't push your luck, Brenton."

"Sorry."

Cibbie groaned and opened her eyes slowly. She looked about at the three grown men standing around her groggily before trying to sit up. Flare held her down, and she threw him a confused look.

"You were shot, don't try to get up." He said. "The surgeons have already repaired the damage, but you need to let it settle for a few minutes."

She poked his stomach with a finger. "There's something I'm supposed to say to you now, but for the life of me I can't remember what."

"One lecture down." Brenton humoured. He leaned over his sister and held out a hand. "How many fingers?" He asked.

"That's a thumb, dickhead." She grumbled.

"Well, at least you've kept your pleasent attitude." He retorted. "But seriously though, you scared the crap outta me, sis."

"It's not like I could help it.."

"Granted, but still." He brushed some of her hair from her face. "I almost lost you, and I've only just gotten you back..."

"Don't worry, I'll get better and do it all over again, don't you fret about that!" She mumbled. Her world spun, mainly because Brenton had made the floating stretcher swivel on the spot, but also because she had a sudden, strange urge to break something. She made do by clicking her neck uncomfortably and looking down at Amanda. "Well hello there." She said toyishly. "Fancy seeing you here. Do tell, where's your collar?"

Amanda gave her a confused look, and Flare held up a small pink collar.

"I've got it." He said. "I was thinking of letting her into the pool under your brother's supervision, and she can't wear the leather collar in the water."

"Go for it." Cibbie grumbled, before trying to sit up again, only to get sharp pains from her shoulder when she tried to move her arm. Jay stepped over, Terry on his shoulder and a triangular piece of fabric in his hands.

Sit still." He instructed. "Hand across your stomach, like this;" she put her hand across her midsection, getting Brenton to hold it up so that she wasn't uncomfortable, "alright, just let Mr. Jay..."

Jay wrapped the fabric under her arm, just below the wrist, and tied it off behind her neck, making sure that her hair wasn't caught up in it.

"Don't take your arm from the sling for at least a few hours." Jay instructed. "It is holding your arm up to ease the weight on your shoulder. You'll still hurt like hell, but this is the best we can do. Don't walk too much, as the increased bloodflow will make it hurt more."

"Pulses." Flare warned.

"For now, you are to eat something, after putting some pants on. You can swim in your bathing suit all you like, but there are spiders around in Australia that can leave quite a nasty bite. Terry can assist you."

The little robot leapt from Jay's shoulder onto Cibbie's lap, and she picked him up allowing him to climb to her unharmed shoulder. She handed Amanda to Flare, picked up her pants and stepped into the bathroom.

When she returned, about three minutes later, Flare was waiting for her with a plate of foods. Sausages, a large porkchop and a small pile of salad. She thanked him, took the food, and sat in the family room, where several of the children, spanning ages from ten to sixteen, sat about and watched a movie or just generally lazed whilst they did whatever it was they were doing. Two of the elder children were debating the rediculousness of the scenes in the movie, adding in stupid comments and silly quotes that'd have them in stitches until the next time they could breathe properly and they'd start all over again.

And then there was the girl.

She sat alone. Not reading, not eating, just watching. She'd watch the others silently until one of them turned their head in her direction, and she'd look away. She was the only Undergrounder in the group, a young Canid, probably only thirteen years old, her eyes a fierce red around their wonderful orange hue. She was underfed, Cibbie could tell that from where she was sitting, and she looked like she was on her last bundle of nerves. Carefully Cibbie stood, taking her plate to the kitchen before returning. Still the girl sat in silence, avoiding everyone else's gaze. Discreetly Cibbie slipped out of the room, fetching Flare and Michael from the backyard, sparing a moment to watch Amanda happily play in the pool with her brother before leading the pair to the family room.

Flare and Michael were silently shocked when Cibbie whispered to them what she had seen, leading them to the girl in the corner. Michael waded through the children, taking the girl by her wrist and leading her away from them. She seemed frightened, apprehensive of what Michael's intentions might have been until she was face-to-stomach with Flare, who knelt down and gently put a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you know who I am, little one?" He asked, to which she shook her head. "My name is Flare Wingspan." He said, and she started to shake a little. "Don't be afraid, I'll not hurt you." He said. "I have a daughter who's about your age, and I'd not hurt you any more than I'd harm her. Please, I want to know, are you alright?"

She shook from fear, this was the Kinslayer talking to her, the man who had killed several of his own allies at the Endgame, a brute like this could easily squash her flat! Yet, as she thought about it, she stopped shaking; he seemed so earnest, and if he really wanted to kill her he'd have done it already. Gently she shook her head a no to his question.

"Do you know why I'm asking you?" He asked, to which she, again, answered no. "My friend here," He signalled to Cibbie, who smiled brightly, "noticed that you're looking a little frail, though if I might comment, that's an understatement." Flare noticed that he was the only half of a conversation, and decided to try a different angle. "What's your name?"

"Lucy." The canid said quietly.

"Lucy, that's a nice name." Flare said. "Lucy, how old are you?"

"I-I'm thirteen in two weeks." She said.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Flare commented. "Lots of interesting things happen at thirteen, it's only unlucky for some." He smiled in a fatherly manner. "When I was thirteen I discovered my ability to breathe fire. You'll discover some interesting things of your own too." She nodded, letting him continue on his own. "Lucy, have you eaten today?"

Her eyes froze, as did the rest of her, and she gave Flare a teary look.

"I-I've not!" She said, sounding desperate. "I swear! Please!"

"Now now." Flare quietly scolded. "There's no need to be so loud. Tell me, what's been going on? You should be eating healthily, why're you so afraid of eating here?"

Lucy stayed quiet, and Flare sighed. "Michael, go and gather a large plate, enough for an adult or two." He said. "Lucy, is something happening at home?"

She nodded, now shivering once more, tears running off her chin. Flare pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her.

"C'mon, let's go find your parents." He said, standing and holding her hand. "You don't need to be frightened, me and my friend here will be right by your side."

Slowly Lucy took Flare to the back door, looking about the yard before pointing to a couple on the far side of the yard. Sure enough, they looked like they had anger issues, constant scowls and they held their wine glasses almost tight enough to break them.

Flare, mindful to keep Lucy hiding behind him, walked her and Cibbie over, stopping in chatting distance. He was being clever, Cibbie knew; he was slouching slightly, making himself seem small.

"Exuse me." He said, getting their attention. "Do you two happen to have a daughter by the name of Lucy?"

"Yeah, what of it?" The father asked angrily. "What has she done this time?"

Flare sighed. "Let me guess." He said, his voice now more audible, possessing anger. "You adopted an Undergrounder orphan because it's the trendy sort of thing to do. Could you please explain, then, why she is so poorly cared for?"

"I don't have to answer to you!" The father snapped. "You're not part of this family, why don't I get Michael to chuck you outta here?!"

"Because." Flare growled, his size now intimidating as he stood upright, a good head taller than the father. "Royalty need their bodyguards, don't they Miss Heritance?"

Cibbie nodded. "Yes. We do."

Michael plodded over, food in his hand, and noticed the group. "What's happening here?" He asked.

"These two're telling us how to be parents!" The mother snapped. "When they have no expe-"

"Don't." Flare growled. "Don't you finish that sentence. Do you know who I am, or exactly what I've gone through? Do you?!"

"Oh, right, I keeps forgetting to introduce people." Michael said, giving the food to Lucy and pulling her from behind Flare. "Martha and Frank Starfury, I'd like you to meet Sybil 'Cibbie' Heritance of the Archethal throne and her bodyguard." He smiled slyly for a pause, letting them be prepared for his next few words. "Flare Wingspan." He glared at the couple. "I'm sure you heard of him, he's commonly called 'Riptear', or, in more common circles -sorry for this- the 'Kinslayer'."

The couple seemed to shrink slightly at this revelation, and only shrunk moreso when he leaned in.

"At the Endgame I had with me my daughter, I hoped to keep her safe with me." He said. "She was only five." He finished with a slower, more deliberate tone. His face became slightly distant as he thought of what he had experienced. "When my fellow soliders tried to take her from me and 'throw her to the wolves', I lashed out." Now he shook with gentle rage, smoke rising around his teeth. "My daughter now lives in a body constructed of metal and plastic." He stood back upright, giving the couple breathing space. "How dare you assume that I don't know how to bring up a child." He put a hand behind Lucy's head, pulling her forth slightly. "I know enough to see that you're not taking care of her. I've heard enough from her own mouth. I could compare her to any of the other children and she'd stand out, not because of her race, but because of her health." He sighed. "Lucy, eat." He said.

"You can't just..!"

"I can." Flare growled. "I'd be perfectly within my rights to take her from you."

The couple looked sideways to Michael, who nodded. "He could take her from you and not have any repurcussion from me." He said. "After hearing this much, I'm willing to do it for him." He sighed and crossed his arms across his chest. "As one of the founding Augments of the Underground people, she is technically a relative."

Flare turned, gently spinning Lucy on the spot to face the same direction as him. "You two sicken me." He said, before leading the young canid away.

The father moved to rush Flare, but Cibbie stepped between them. "My arm may be useless," She growled, "but the other one is metal."

"Damned Underground sympathiser." He snapped.

"I care for those who need it most." Michael shot. "No matter the race. You're not to come within ten metres of her for the day, and a Guild rep will be at your house within the hour to see exactly the sort of conditions she lives in. Don't worry about being there, Fortune Wingspan is very honest."

The parents seemed to acknowledge their defeat, and they humphed before turning away.

A short while later, after Amanda had been brought back inside from the pool and dried off, Cibbie sat in the family room once more. Lucy was on one side of her, gently stroking Amanda while the little drake ate bits of sausage that Cibbie would hold out for her. Eventually the children were called outside by their parents, and Michael dawdled in, his mother, Flare, Rose and Brenton in tow. Brenton sat at his sister's side.

"Now, I know it's not been a very good day." He started.

"That's an understatement." She retorted.

"Granted." He admitted. "But today is an important day."

Michael put a box onto Cibbie's lap, bright paper wrapping with the number 21 and pictures of balloons all over it.

"Cibbie, I know you've not got much memory of your past, but I do remember." Brenton continued. "And today, exactly, is your twenty first birthday."

"I.." She mumbled, before staring directly at her lap miserably. "It's not like I'm not trying." She mumbled.

"Well, don't push yourself. Brenton told us the date of your birthday when we were chatting to him while you were with the Broodmother, and we were a bit panicked about it being today." Michael said, before nudging her. "C'mon, open it. Saharah's spent all day getting it ready."

Cibbie nodded sheepishly and unwrapped the box, taking a moment to tease Amanda with the wrapping by covering her face in it. She opened the box and pulled out a dress.

It was less regal than the formal clothes that she had worn the other day, yet purples and yellows caught her eye. Well, at least she liked the combination. There weren't as many laces and ruffles as her other dress, but it still held a certain class all its own. She lifted it from the box and admired the silky fabric before something else within the box got her attention. Carefully she folded the dress on Brenton's lap next to her and lifted the other item from the box. It had a note on it that read:

'To Inheritance, from blood, to blood.'

She lifted the note off and looked, slighly taken aback, at the photo below. Carved wooden frame of Phoenixes rising from flames all around a colour photo. Her memory jolted, and she stared at the figures. Her mother and father in the middle alongside one another, with Brenton kneeling next to Cibbie infront of them. She was only little, barely a teenager, and even then she had been wearing purple and yellow. Brenton was in blues, ranging from white to almost black darks, her mother in pinks and white, and her father, standing tall in red and white. She could see, just barely, the Dozen cards that the male members of her family had on their persons. She sniffled, and a pair of tears she hadn't felt running down her face tapped onto the glass.

"Do you remember that summer, Cibbie?" Brenton asked. "The warmth of the air, that game of chess we played for hours on end?"

She nodded and leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around her.

"This photo was taken that day." He said. "Your eleventh birthday."

"We've lost so much..." She sniffled.

"Yet gained so much more." He finished for her. "I'm sorry I've been away for so long, but now that we're together again, we can solve the puzzle our father left for us and make him proud."

Brenton put the dress back in its box, putting the photo on top before sliding the lid closed and lifting if from her lap. He pulled her from the seat and led her to the kitchen. Michael met them there, another cardboard box on the top.

"What're we doing in here?" Cibbie asked, still sniffling slightly.

Michael lifted the lid of the box, revealing a chocolate cake with white icing, red curled icing and decoration highlighted on the otherwise monochrome cake.

"What kind of birthday would this be without a cake?" He asked.