I'm sleepless. Night after night for two straight weeks. Scouring the library, books, research, classified material ( nothing is classified to me). Reports of the faintest relevance are organized. I study, I formulate, I plan, I theorize.

But I don't think about it.

I don't think about dying, about death. I refuse to let myself even imagine for one second that I cannot conquer this. It's not even a matter of refusing to think about it- I simply don't.

Except…

When the eyes stare back.

Pale skin. Dark violet hair. All my mother's glory.

The damn eyes.

They were always a mystery, but one I had long ago tossed aside for all it's worthlessness.

Eyes speak when words fail. The eyes curse me. Laugh. Remind me that this disease isn't just some new project of mine, some other challenge to solve. Remind me that the importance of this project is my life. The life of Cyclonia.

The eyes narrow at me.

I hate him.

I can see it playing out in my mind. An insurgent, part of a rebel force. He's sick, he knows he's going to die. He goes undercover to Cyclonia, working his way to the top. The biological clock is ticking. Four hands.

He offers himself, or makes sure he is chosen, knowing full well the poison he bears. The Queen needs a heir. The deed is done. She is poisoned. He disappears, or dies from this disease.

A posthumous child is born, to die a posthumous death. Simultaneously taking out the empire.

One flaw with that plan: I refuse to die.

I was meant to rule Cyclonia. Cyclonia was meant to rule. It is fate.

Then why has fate brought this upon you?

The SkyKnight's voice is in my head. A cynical, mocking voice, I imagine.

If you'd been born a girl, then this wouldn't be an issue. If you're mother had born perhaps a few other children instead of waiting so long…

Fate. I know it is with me. If not, then I'll defeat it too. Nothing will stop me.

I will not fall.

I shut my eyes, and grin, laughing back at my reflection.

My reflection? His reflection.

For two reasons I hope he is alive. One so That I may take the cure from him. And two- so that I may have the pleasure of killing him myself.

The discovery of DNA is a new one, barely traversed. I'm about to walk all over it.

I gather the books, the papers, scientists and researchers, committing them to the top secret project. I select a variety of crystals to work on my own. The small green Nil crystal hangs around my neck. It helps, in some ways. Though, judging from it's prosperities, it shouldn't.

So many questions…

And I'm going to get answers.

I know where I need to go.

****

I leave with only one Nightcrawler in tow- considering my present condition I should really take more, but I don't want to. The fewer people who the better. Knowledge is power. I keep power to myself.

It's bitterly cold but snowless. An icy frost covers the dead terra. The tires slide as I land.

"Wait here," I say to both the Nightcrawler and the one at the door. He steps aside as I enter.

It's dark all over, except for that corner of light. The paper blue lanterns and fireplace where she is silhouetted. She turns slowly, moving the wheels on her chair.

"Well this is unexpected."

I approach bowing under the line of lanterns.

"I have some things to ask you."

She wheels herself to the table, dropped down to her height. I sit across.

"My Mother used to speak to you." I say. "She used to visit." I know this. I remember.

Piper nods.

"What did you talk about?"

She raises an eyebrow. "On what occasion?"

"Any occasion."

"There's a few to choose from."

"Start from the beginning." Keep it to the point Corvus, I tell myself. I can't afford to waste time with unimportant details. Just ask her what you want to know.

What do I want to know?

She leans back. "The beginning's debatable too. What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

****