The building was gargantuan. Large and white it stood, surrounded by white sand on all sides, spreading out as far as his eyes could see. Off in the distance there were a few greenish specs of what must be trees, and a faint blue line of the ocean.

A normal person should have only seen the large building, trees, sand, and some ocean, and maybe imagined it as a kind of vacationing spot. But he'd never been normal and neither was this place. He could feel it, and he could see it too. He tried to turn away but it rolled right over him.

Iria felt her little brother's hand go lax in hers. She tightened her grip and smiled down at him, projecting calmness and control. Her practiced smile wetly slipped off her face.

"Quatre?"

She knelt in front of him and gently grabbed his shoulders, and began lightly running her fingers through his hair.

"Here Kitty Kitty Kitty...Quat." His eyes were staring raptly at something only he could see and his body swayed with the wind.

Come on dammit! The people on this island wouldn't care how strong he was if he kept going off into his little fits.

"Iria". Clear, toneless and sexless. "Is there a...problem?"

She snapped up her mental shields before allowing an inner, violent shudder. Show no weakness. She turned, and, instinctively using her body and mind to shield Quatre's, stood.

This being before her, though containing a sexless quality, was unmistakably male. He was a middle eastern man who, standing somewhere over six feet contained the swarthy skin of his people. His liquid black eyes stared at her over a roman nose and thin lips. An older man, for the lines around his eyes, whom she had once considered handsome. Before she'd known what he really was.

Show no weakness.

"Ramar. How lovely to see you after so long." She smiled a relaxed smile and felt her bowels nearly release as he briefly touched her mind. She returned the light, testing touch to his smooth shields. A customary greeting among psions. She was out of practice. His face didn't reveal in the slightest what he'd taken from her, but she had felt his mind sink ever so slightly beyond her shields.

"I sensed your distress, Iria."As though he cared. "Is there anything you require assi-" For the first time since she'd known him, she saw him lose his composure. His eyes widened and his lips popped open. His hair grayed slightly as he lost a bit of concentration on his projection, and for a moment he looked like a surprised older man. For all her shock she didn't dare let her face show her surprise. His power deserved far too much respect and commanded a great deal of fear. He regained control and his eyes bore into her.

"What is that?"

Her pleasant smile strained as she tried to buy Quatre...herself, more time. "What is what?" She visibly flinched at his glare. "Oh that. Well...as the details of our bargain dictates, I have brought you someone with far greater potential than I myself bear..." she fumbled searching for more words, "his name is Quatre Rebarba Winner and he is my younger brother." Her laughter sounded like she was gargling glass so she stopped. "You ah, you may think he is a bit odd, being the only boy in a family of girls but-"

"Move aside." Dismissed.

His focus slid off her and probed at the little boy behind her. She quickly moved squarely in front of him and flared her own psychic aura to mask Quatre's and draw Ramar's attention to her.

A strong breeze gusted her blond hair in her eyes and whipped the pretty white sun dress around her pale calves.

Iria didn't know what was wrong with her. She'd brought Quatre here to free herself of the chains binding her here and they could help him deal with his overwhelming psychic potential far better than she. She would be free and he would learn control and they gained a powerful replacement psychic for their cause. Everyone won. So why then was she so reluctant?

Another, sharper tug of wind played with the slender platinum chain around her neck. The gust might have even lifted it from her breast if it weren't weighed down by the little charm on the end. A small heart made of gold.

It had only been a month ago, on Quatre's tenth birthday, she'd purchased them both identical necklaces. He'd stared up at her with wonder and innocence as she explained that it was because they shared hearts that were so big, with so much space inside that they could feel what was in other people's hearts too. He had been so happy then. He always used to happy then, before more and more weight from his burgeoning psychic talent fell on his frail shoulders.

Talents. 'Chains' was more accurate.

When she had first come to this place, she had been considered invaluable with her powerful double gift of empathy and clairvoyance. They'd bound to her to them so tightly that it took a miracle to free her.

Quatre. He was supposed to be that miracle. She'd stopped counting his 'talents' when she couldn't even name some of the things she saw happen around him. They would take him and never let him go.

There had never been another psion with the kind of power Quatre would someday wield.

And few with what he could wield now.

Not even Ramar Nazeer, the Compound's most powerful telepath and one of the world's strongest minds, would match his abilities. She'd been older when they'd come for her. Old enough to have her own mind, old enough to know whether or not she wanted to be apart of the Compound, old enough to question, old enough to...just old enough. Quatre wouldn't stand a chance. There wouldn't be any miracles for him. They would take him and change him and.

She wanted to run a nervous hand through her hair. Or bite her lips. Or scream.

"I've", her voice cracked. "I have changed my mind", she said. Against the pierce of his glare, she drew the strength and nobility inherit in her very name. She was a Winner and her father had never let any of his daughters forget that.

She squared her shoulders and managed a far more confident, " I will return to the Compound, and serve as I was meant to."

"You will serve?" Somehow that utterly toneless mental voice managed to sound both incredulous and scornful at once.

"Yes, I will serve." Iria could feel the famous Winner temper building in her middle and stiffening her spine. Her chin snapped up. "You yourself told me that I was of strong potential and that my doubly talented nature made me extremely valuable. I will become whatever sort of assassin you wish of me, but I will not subject my brother to your twisted subversions."

Ramar simply stared at her with no expression in his black eyes. Finally he nodded slowly.

She held her stance for a moment, silk and hair ruffling a graceless dance on the breeze. Finally she too nodded and turned to Quatre.

The small boy stood as heavy lidded and entranced as he had been before Ramar had appeared. She picked him up and his body relaxed against hers, his eyes slipping shut. Quatre was still drawn into the aura of the place, seeing things only he could see.

The young woman hugged Quatre to her and started walking. The shield that anger had afforded her from common sense was fading and her heart throbbed dully in her chest.

A pricking between her shoulders told her that Ramar's gaze still bore into her.

She walked faster.