I think I knew that Christmas would end up being out of reach, the moment I suggested it. It's always the same story. However, I think you can tell that I'm filled with the Christmas spirit by the second half of this chapter. I've made it ooze with imagery and references to the coming of Christ, which is overly fitting for content that was written a month and a half after I started working on it. It was not at all in the plan, but its Christmas and it looks good.

Just, you know, subtle mood shifts. I'm knee-deep in an "OMG, Jesus is coming, y'all!" aesthetic right now, and its showing in literally everything I'm up to.

All that said, let's skip ahead to the next morning.

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Chapter 12: The Third Day

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The dreary morning dragged on in a slow, sad blur. Star had continued her journalling until there was nothing new to add to it. She believed her father had finally cornered Zane and had a long, redemptive talk with him. Annad had gone on mapping out the city and making plans, though she had done so with Seth and Spencer's help, instead.

Otherwise, very little she could see had been accomplished.

The afternoon report had promised rain, which had begun shortly after. The only way to know for sure what time it had started was by the radio announcement, for there were no working clocks left in the house, and the sun was still impossible to see through the clouds. The bells in the city's greatest tower had sat silent through the noon hour, and the five o'clock hour, and later through the midnight hour. It was easy to imagine they might never ring again.

Every now and again, there would be a cautious knock on the battered front door, and one of the city's rebels would be standing outside. They had all come offering food and water, asking after their fearless leaders, and begging to know if the rumors were true – if Rowan of Rin and all his usual heroic companions had really come to Habaharan, if they were really at Bhlai House, and if they could at least get a look at them all.

That news seemed to have spread with alarming speed, much like their tales had before. A few people had found their wish granted, whenever one of the Arin happened to be standing watch on the first floor. One lucky couple had even found Annad and Marlie following them out of the house to hunt for supplies. They had returned shortly with food, fuel, and bandages, and had only their overly willing guides to thank for it.

After that, it had seemed that people had come around more often for a few hours. Even when the rain had changed from a petulant drizzle to a pelting shower, rebels had continued to knock on the door in a steady stream. Nothing could have kept them away from a chance to meet the people who had inspired them, who they now counted on having a hand in delivering them.

On the rare chance someone actually remembered to ask after Zamiel and his men, excuses and promises to pass kind thoughts along to them had been made. None of the rebels seemed to mind, especially not the bright-eyed young woman who had the chance to shake Allun's hand and stand in his presence. They all must have assumed that their leaders were hard at work planning their next move against the Dragon Lord. Knowing the truth of what had happened to squadron C-57 would have devastated them.

This had gone on until the evening report had suddenly ordered a curfew, commanding all citizens to return to their homes for the night. Or, whatever shelter they had left to use, the report had clearly meant but hadn't said. After that, it had become almost serenely quiet at Bhlai House. At least they had been fed, and had been somewhat comfortable, even though the house was fuller than usual. Despite all her sleep from the previous day, and a long day of doing nothing at all, Star had been exhausted and quite ready for a long, normal sleep. There had been exactly nothing else left worth doing.

And so she had taken the pillow and half the blanket from her ruined bed and let the pattering rain lull her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She woke abruptly in pitch blackness to two sounds. One was the rain, just as heavy as she remembered it. The other was a loud banging on the front door, which was followed by nearby footsteps and the sound of a blade being drawn.

Star peered out of her room and down the hallway, where the light of a lantern lit the space before the door. Allun and Marlie must have been taking a turn on watch, because they were both standing there with weapons at the ready. He was unbolting the door, opening it open a crack, and peeking cautiously at whoever was outside.

"What in heaven and earth are you doing here, child?" he asked in surprise. "Curfew hasn't lifted yet. Hurry home, before the guards see you, and come back when the sun has risen. All your heroes will still be here, I promise."

"Forley, what are you talking about?" a familiar voice squeaked back. "It's me, Junie, your friend. I have to see Star. Where is she?"

Her heart leaping with gladness, Star darted down the hall and grabbed her godfather's arm. "Its true, she is our friend," she insisted. "My best friend, in fact. Please, let her in!"

Unable to turn her down when she was finally so excited, he put his knife away and stepped aside, letting the other girl in out of the rain. June had a dripping canvas sheet thrown over her head, but Star didn't care. She threw her arms around her at once, overjoyed.

"I was so worried about you, June. I was scared I might not see you again."

"Speak for yourself," June answered. "The queen had you right there! We were sure she would have done away with you, the first chance she got. How did you survive?"

"Only by a trick of destiny, I think. Are you alright? How is your mother? What's happened with the rest of your house?"

June shrugged the sheet off her shoulders and shrugged. "Fine enough, until last night. We just heard about the jailbreak – some guards were sent to tell us the news. Oh, did you hear about my master? He's dead! The general is dead, and our whole house is free! Can you believe it? It seems silly, when we're still being attacked like this, but... It's just been so long, since my life was my own."

Joy turned nearly back to numbness. Of course, June had no way of knowing the very person she was hugging was the one who had brought about her freedom, let alone how she had done it. Star wanted to blurt out the whole truth; she was almost curious to see if her dear friend's love would turn to loathing for what she had done. But June plainly had no time for that, because she was going on about her own troubles and wringing her hands.

"At least, its sort of my own again. My sister is beside herself about it, of course. She's taken over the house as viciously as you could guess. Not one person has had food or water since we heard the news – she says its what the general would have wanted. And I'm in real trouble, now. Without our master to protect me, she's out to kill me for sure. I've spent the night creeping around the house, from one hiding place to the next, just trying to stay alive. I only now got away to find you."

Star gripped her friend's shaking hands, forcing her own worries away. "Well, you're safe here. So, the queen finally found out about the jailbreak?"

"I think its why the curfew was ordered," June agreed, her cheerful face grave. "Its so they can search for you in peace, I just know it. Surely, they've known it for a while, but something's kept them held off. You must have an idea or two about that, right, Forley?"

She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see faces she knew. The ones she saw were very much like Forley and Leah's, true; but she could see at once that they were not who she thought they were. Older and wiser, unmarked and dressed in strange clothes, they certainly were not her friends. June's pale green eyes went wide, filled with understanding, and her hands flew over her mouth.

"But you... Then, you're... So the rumors – its all real?"

Allun laughed and put his arm around her. "As real as that pretty nose on your face. Come along upstairs, then, friend. Let's get you dried off, and put some food in your belly."

"Agreed," Marlie added, joining her husband in hurrying the girl toward the stairs. "We don't pretend to know exactly what you've been through, but it sounds like you've earned a rest."

Grinning ear to ear, June just mumbled her thanks and let them haul her along. She looked like someone stumbling through a wonderful dream, like many of the visitors before her. Allun the baker and Marlie the weaver weren't just touching her, but doting on her as if she were their own. It was a dream for many of Habaharan's hurting, lonely children, come true.

Star followed behind them, letting her friend live out that dream for a moment. When they reached the second floor, she stood aside and watched as yet another round of introductions and explanations were made for the newcomer. When June had been standing outside, she had spoken with urgency in her voice; it had sounded like she wanted more than to just see if her best friend was really alive, but like she also had something terribly important to tell her. Happy reunions and peasant surprises and the promise of food had driven it from her mind, for now.

Whatever it was, Star figured there would be time enough for it soon. No one could explain anything properly on an empty stomach, as they had all learned from Vivi. After being starved and hunted like a wounded animal, it was only fair to let June eat her fill and get used to the people around her, first.

"The rebels are pulling themselves together," she said shortly, still cramming dry biscuits into her mouth. "Central may be lost, mostly, but the people have been hard at work the last two days. I heard there's been a lot of word going around. Stations are being assigned, and everyone's doing their best to get to them."

Zane and Annad looked between each other and smiled smugly. "We're glad to hear the people are following our orders," he said. "We haven't gotten much done, but we've given instructions to as many people as we could."

"Yes, as many weren't too dazzled to follow them, anyway," Annad agreed. "You see? We told Zamiel we could pull it back together. But he... Isn't exactly in a listening mood, himself."

June looked up at her with a strange expression. "Why shouldn't he be? The losses have been terrible, certainly; but he knows he can count on the rest of us. And he has you – all of you."

The rest of the company grew very quiet. Some became downcast. Others shrugged and scratched their heads. There was no easy way to explain how the man's grief had consumed him, and none wanted to crush June's hopes by telling her that he refused be the leader anymore.

June seemed to understand that something was wrong, but shook her head over it and reached for another biscuit. "Well, I'm sure he'll come around when his little brother gets back. He must be worried sick, what with Zan running around in the dark and rain – you know how those two are."

If she suddenly felt the weight of the world hanging over her head, it wasn't surprising. Every eye was pinned on her, wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Say that again?" Zara asked tightly.

No longer understanding in the slightest, June frowned over the crowd. "What did I say?" she begged. "I can guess you must be worried about him by now, but Zan is fine. He said he was on a mission; part of it was to tell me to come here, and he promised he would follow me shortly. He said he would have come with me straight away, except that he still had things to do. He's been running around the city since morning yesterday, rallying the people. But, you know all about that, of course."

Zione crept to the girl's side and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Dear little Junie Barsa, listen to me. Zan isn't... I'm afraid we lost him, girl. He... Didn't make it. Not even into the dungeon. You were only dreaming, I think; perhaps the brave spirit of our Lion Man visited you in your sleep. However it happened, it was not real."

Star's heart was crumbling. No one had spoken Zan's name in front of her in two days. He was on all their minds, but his loss was still so raw and painful, no one could seem to talk about it. To hear her best friend babbling on as if he were still alive was nearly cruel.

But June was staring back at the shorter woman as if she were crazy.

"That's not possible," she scoffed. "I just saw him, not half an hour ago, and he was real enough, then. Two other members of the house saw and heard him, too – they helped me escape. When he said he was sent on a mission, I assumed that you were the ones who sent him."

Unable to bear such talk any longer, Star clenched her fists and stamped her foot on the floor, suddenly furious enough to hit someone.

"Don't assume things, June," she growled. "It only makes an ass of you and me, both."

June sighed, exasperated, and tried to approach her. "I know. You've said so many times in the past. But whatever it was you assume you saw, I did see Zan, and I can prove it to you right now."

Not completely knowing what she was doing, Star shoved her away with all her strength. June was so shocked and so hurt, she almost fell to the ground; but Star was so angry, she almost felt it served her right for mocking them this way. Trembling, she sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands.

"Stop it – just stop it!" she cried. "I've spent the last two days making my peace with it! I was nearly ready to move on, and fight again, like I promised I would! But can't you see ts killing me? Why must you torment me like this?"

Almost at once, she felt terribly ashamed of herself. She was sure that her best friend would creep away from her, and maybe not speak to her again. Instead, she felt June kneeling before her, holding something up for her to see. In spite of her shame, Star looked up, wondering what could make her friend be so forgiving.

And there before her eyes, positively glowing in the fire light, was a gold medallion hanging from a faded silk cord. Behind it, June's face was so serious, it was nearly scolding.

"Do I even want to know what he was doing with this?"

Star stared back, speechless. She was filled to bursting with thoughts and feelings and questions that all contradicted each other. At an absolute loss, she reached for the medallion, its weight and smoothness filling her palm with aching familiarity.

"But it can't be... It's not possible...!"

Her father appeared beside her, snatching it hungrily from her hand. There was no astonishment or disbelief in his face; only an otherworldly relief. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as if inhaling sweet incense, drawing much-missed power from the medallion. It seemed that he, too, was glowing with strength and joy and courage, and every other good thing the Earth sigil stood for.

"Oh, but my darling Small Star," he whispered. "It is possible."

When he opened his eyes, it was like a decade's worth of trials and pain had faded from them. In its place was the gleaming, golden sheen of earthen magic. With a start, Star realized that her father had suddenly regained the ability to move a whole mountain with only his bare hands and tremendous will. An ability which was his by right, which Fate had allowed her to borrow all this time.

While the rest of the company exclaimed in wondrous joy over it, Star and June remained on the floor, staring at each other in the depths of confusion.

"I don't understand," Star said quietly, hugging her knees to her chest. "I saw it happen. The queen worked her will, planning to send me away into the wastelands, to be devoured by the ishken. But Zan jumped between us, and... She sent him away, instead. He vanished before my eyes."

June stared hard at her. "So, you didn't actually see him die."

And Star stared back at her, hardly able to believe what she was saying. "But alone, in the wastelands, surrounded by ravenous beasts? No one can survive that. It's why the queen chose it."

"I don't know, Star. A few people in this room have survived a whole night out there, and then a long life afterwards. If anyone could do it, it's Zan. Look who's telling who not to assume things."

Star pinned her gaze on her knees, too sheepish to look her friend in the eye. Maybe it made sense... But entertaining the idea was so outlandish, so fantastic, it seemed stupid. Nothing more than the desperate hope of a wounded heart, wishing to turn back time. A hope too ridiculous to put her faith in, no matter what proof there was.

But June was also frowning. "What I don't understand is, he told me he was sent. He kept saying it, over and over again, as if he couldn't contain himself. And he was so happy – so excited. Of course I figured it was about the jailbreak, and that Zamiel had tasked him with seeing to the people. What else was I to think? But, if you didn't send him... Who did?"

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Star wanted to believe it. Truly, she did. The idea that her love might have survived and cleverly found his way back into the city – back to her – was so tempting to trust. But her mind was still so bruised and sore and full of doubts, she refused. She couldn't seem to stop her heart from hoping anyway, with the faintest, most wishful of hopes. Without her head in agreement, it was like the fanciful hope of a child to see fairies or a unicorn someday, while secretly, fearfully knowing that it would never be.

Even the sight of the Earth sigil, around her father's neck and in his hand where it was supposed to be, couldn't fully convince her. Star knew that this was strange. Completely irrational. The medallion was absolutely the real thing, she could see it. And there was no way for it to be here, unless Zan had come into the city alive somehow. There was no way for June to have even guessed he had it, unless he had told her in person. It was all the proof anyone could have asked for, and then some, and nearly all the rest of the company was rejoicing over it.

And yet, for some bizarre reason she couldn't explain, Star did not believe it. No matter how many times she had looked at the facts, tallied them up, and seen the impossible reason they made, she couldn't take it in. She would have liked to, but it felt as though that part of her was broken.

More than once, she overheard her family whispering together about how odd it was that she, of all people, was refusing to face the facts. She wanted to explain to them why that was – that she was broken and hurting, and had already accepted so much, and that she was no longer sure which way was up or down. But she also felt sure that no one would understand properly, and that they would insist that she open her eyes to the truth, as if she hadn't been trying to do just that. So she went on sulking in a corner, keeping her complicated feelings to herself.

"I don't get it," she heard June lamenting to her father. "Star has always listened to me. We're best friends; we trust each other with everything. So, why won't she listen to me now? What have I done wrong?"

"You've done nothing wrong," Rowan insisted in his gentle way. "But Star is a stubborn sort, and has far too much on her mind right now. I'm afraid she's gone a bit blind to a few things, through no fault of her own. I've been there, myself, recently... I can't say it doesn't worry me, though."

"Why is that, sir?"

"Because nothing good ever comes of it. Whenever I have closed myself off from the truth, my consequences have been terrible. I come to the same ends, no matter what, but I cause myself more pain and suffering than if I should have. After all that's happened so far, I don't want to watch Star causing that for herself. I wish he would come around..."

It hurt Star in a number of ways to hear all that, even if she knew it was true. Still pretending that she wasn't listening, she saw that her mother had heard them, too, and had come to join them.

"You must remember, my dear, Star is not in her right mind," she pointed out. "She may have to do this the hard way, and there may be no helping it. Besides, as you said, she is so stubborn – as stubborn as you and I combined. All she knows is what she has seen, and she's had her sight set on revenge for days, now. Those are difficult feelings to let go of, even for those who are not the stubborn sort."

"But such feelings are dangerous. I would leave her the time and space to sort it out for herself, but how much time do we have left? I fear we're running out, and I don't know what will happen with her. I hate it to have come so far to find my only daughter, only to lose her again to all this madness."

June sighed deeply. "You don't really think she's going mad, do you?"

"No, of course not. Love and grief make people do the strangest things, but it rarely brings about real, lasting madness. However, if I said a few days' rest will have her back to her usual self, I would be lying. As I suppose you know by now, that is something I cannot do.

All at once, Star was quite done hearing people whispering about her. She had ignored it, mostly, but it hurt especially to see her own parents at it. And it hurt to be the only one in the room still without hope or comfort. She rose and trudged away to the stairs, to join the only other person in the house as miserable as she was.

She found Zamiel cloistered in one of the third floor's hidden rooms, right where he had been since the previous morning – lying in a sad nest of blankets he had made for himself, staring blankly at the ceiling he couldn't really see in the darkness. It seemed like he hadn't moved in hours. Compared to the floors below, it was serenely, broodingly quiet.

"Can I stay here?" she asked quietly.

"I suppose," Zamiel huffed after a moment.

Glad to be in such gloomy company at last, Star threw herself into one of the blankets and turned her gaze to the ceiling. Finally, she felt like she was with someone who understood her completely.

"Did you hear about Junie?" she asked.

"I did."

"And the sigil?"

"I did."

"And... about Zan?"

"...I did."

"So... What do you think?"

"What do you think?"

"I have no idea, and apparently, some people think that makes me mad."

Which she knew very well as a cruel exaggeration; but she was too comfortable in this gloominess, and too put out to care. She was glad when Zamiel reached for her hand and held it tight, silently promising that she was not mad, and that he understood as she had thought he might.

"Maybe everyone else is mad, and we are the only ones who haven't lost their minds yet," he mused. "It seems so foolish to hope for anything just now."

"I'm hopeful," Star insisted. "Just... Not about everything."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"...I am hopeful. I can't help it. I've tried all night to throw it all away, to put out that flame once and for all, before anyone else sees and follows it their deaths. But I can't seem to stamp those embers out completely. There's still a little light, and it refuses to go out. I want to fight for it. I want to fight so desperately, Star, but I don't know if I can. I don't even know if I really want to."

"That light would have gone out hours ago, if you didn't. I want to fight, too. If you told me to, I would do it."

"I wouldn't make you do that, Star. There would be no point in it. I see now that it will take more than careful plans and cunning missions to stand against the Dragon Lord – it will take a miracle. I'm afraid I've never bothered believing in miracles..."

Star had seen Zamiel at his best and worst, his highest and lowest, and had never heard him say anything that made her so sad. Miracles didn't have to be big and fantastic to be real; mostly, she knew them to be small things, like chancing to see an egg hatching, or the way certain flowers always bloomed in time for her birthday. But she had also seen big ones: a lost brother returning home, the reclaiming of a whole people's name, men wielding two elements at once for the sake of a stranger, and escapes from an inescapable dungeon.

All those things had been nothing short of miracles. She hadn't realized that Zamiel had never seen that. It was no wonder, then, that he put all his faith into his own plans, crafting them with all his care and might. He never expected Fate to lend him a hand.

And so it felt awkward to agree with him, anyway. It did, indeed, seem that a loud, sudden miracle was the only way to win the day. In the dark silence, Star found herself meditating on this idea. What if that was the whole point? What if now, in their darkest hour, the Zebak would be saved by the will of the universe, working its own will in its own way? It was nice to think of, but it still seemed bleak. It would take far more than the will of a young, untrained Titan to turn the tide.

A long time passed in the dark silence. Then, there came a moment when Star found the silence sounded different. The heavy pattering of the rain on the roof right above their heads had grown softer. She peered out into the common room and was surprised to see pale light filling the space. Outside the one window she could see, the thick, gray storm clouds were breaking apart. The periwinkle of dawn hoovered just beyond.

"Zamiel? What was the sign you used at the ball? What were the words?"

The man groaned, hating to be reminded. "Solaris's'ai'abra. Seb's'ai'yuka."

"The sun will rise. The dawn will come."

"Yes, that. Why?"

"Because its happening. The sun is rising. Look."

Zamiel sighed and sat up stiffly. He blinked at the light and scratched his head. "Well, would you look at that. I can't believe it's been three days since I've seen the sun. I was beginning to wonder if we would ever see it again... I guess I'll have to change the words a bit, now."

Star gazed up at him, and a wave of relief flooded her heart. He was nearly smiling at the sight of the sunrise, and his words sounded almost hopeful. He looked more like himself, more like he was ready for new ideas and plans. Perhaps all he had needed was a little light – real, warm light from the mother star – to give him courage and direction.

The silence was broken by a clattering up the stairs, and Alanis calling Star's name. She appeared in the doorway faster than Star could get up and answer, and she looked uncommonly anxious.

"So, this is where you've been," she exclaimed. "I've been looking all over the house for you! And – Zamiel, are you still in here? I might have known it. Both of you need to come downstairs. Something magical is happening."

Puzzled in spite of their mood, the two helped each other up and followed Alanis back down the stairs. The closer they came to joining the rest of their company, the more Star could feel the pulsing vibrations of Deep Magic in the air. It wasn't like the sure, steady humming of Earthen magic she knew so well. It reminded her of a heartbeat.

She knew at once that it was coming from the obsidian talisman.

Zizi had found himself nearly alone in the middle of the open room, still clutching the diadem even though he was plainly frightened by what it was doing. None of his countrymen seemed willing to stand too close to it; even Vivi had backed as far away from it as she dared, torn between protecting her brother and having to stand beside the thing he refused to let go of. Not even the Arin, who knew enough about magic to not fear it, kept their distance. It seemed as though they all longed to be near it; but with all the energy it was suddenly emitting, they were afraid that it might hurt them.

Star felt it, too. She was filled with a great desire to run to the talisman. She saw it on every other Zebak face there, too – a nearly aching longing to stand in its mighty presence and let its power shine all over her. It was her birthright. And yet that power was so tremendous, she feared it might consume and destroy her if she came too close.

But Zizi was not completely alone in that mighty, pulsing presence. Rowan was kneeling beside him, holding his small hands steady as they gripped the diadem, marveling with him over the black stone between them. From across the room, his dark eyes were still filled with the golden color of his own magic, shining all the more to be so close to another. And it seemed that Zizi's red eyes had taken on the ruddy gleam of sharp, polished iron – a spiritual sword, in the willing hands of a young disciple.

Something magical was happening, indeed.

"What did I – I don't know what I – what do I do?" Zizi was squeaking. "Why is it – what's it doing?"

"It has awoken," Rowan decided, glancing around at the windows, where the dawn was gaining strength. "It is the light of the sun, I think. Who even knows the last time this stone has tasted its own source of power?"

He considered the stone for a moment, then looked at Zizi with apology in his face. "I had hoped this wouldn't have to come so soon, but it seems there is no choice. It's time you learn another of our responsibilites."

Instead of shrinking in fright, Zizi's face lit up with excitement. "Another one? Oh boy, what is it?"

"We prophesy. From time to time, the Lairad will send messages to their Titans, in the form of signs or visions or rhymes. Then we deliver the message to our people, so that they can understand. I believe your Hallowed Father is trying to tell you something, Zizi. You must answer him."

Zizi nodded, but he also looked very nervous. "You'll help me?"

"Of course, little brother. Don't hold back from it, now. Let it fill you, let it speak through you, as I've shown you. It may hurt a great deal, this first time; but if you trust it and let it work its will, it will be easier."

Following all this advice, Zizi furrowed his brow in concentration, waiting for something to happen.

"You're tensing up, keeping it out. Try to allow it to flow freely; doing your breathing practice will help. And speak to it. Ask what it wants, and what you can do for it. Invite it to work in you. Deep Magic doesn't usually wait for an invitation, but it always likes to have one."

"That sounds – talking to a rock is silly."

"Its not the rock you're talking to."

Zizi smiled a bit and closed his eyes, breathing slow and evenly. It made Star smile, too. Her father had clearly spent time training the boy, the same way he had trained her. Speaking to something so small had seemed silly to her, too, once upon a time; learning that it was a sacred link to something so much bigger, and that it would give what was sought, changed everything.

Star wondered what words Zizi was using, as he silently said hello to the talisman for the first time. She wondered if they knew each other's voices, and what knowledge the talisman had to share. She didn't have to wonder long. Almost at once, the boy took a shuddering gasp as Deep Magic flooded to fill his small body. His mouth fell open, and in two voices, words were pouring out – not in a grating roar, but almost a whisper.

To love and war and valor sworn;
of blood and bone and fire borne,
to cast away the Master's yolk,
to purify His hallowed folk.
Before Him goes a herald, bright:
the faithful Dragon, filled with might.
Three days have passed. The battle is won.
Now, Mother, arise with joyful song.

For a first prophecy, it was frightfully long. It wasn't surprising when Zizi collapsed into Rowan's arms, and the diadem fell with a dull clang to the floor. The boy was gasping for air, perhaps barely conscious; but his hallowed brother knew the feeling very well, and wouldn't have abandoned him for anything. The diadem had quieted as suddenly as it had hummed to life, and the room now felt strangely empty, as Zizi himself must have felt. With nothing to keep them away, a number of people surged forward to see him. Vivi and Leah were kneeling beside him, whispering soothingly as he slowly came around. Several members of the squad were rushing downstairs, intent on finding him a cup of water and a damp cloth for his head.

"He's our king now, right?" Misha laughed as they crowded down the stairs. "Of course we should be tripping over ourselves to serve him! Only the best, for my king."

It was difficult to tell if the man was joking or not. Star could tell that her mother, at least, was not amused by it. She watched as Zeel hesitantly took the diadem in her own hands, carrying it with great fear and reverence, and placed it on the mantle over the fireplace. It would be safe and out of the way there, until its Titan was well enough to carry it again. It was the sensible thing to do; but it was clear that Zeel had surprised herself a bit, wondering how she had dared to touch such a thing with her bare hands. As if she thought she had no right to it, when she had every right in the world.

Still on the stairs beside her, Zamiel heaved a deep sigh and sagged against the railing. His eyes were wide and his brows furrowed as he rubbed his mouth in deep thought. What he had just witnessed had moved him to his core. The look on his face was impossible to read; it was so strange it could have meant many things.

Maybe he was baffled by the taste of his own words in his mouth. What else could this moment be, but a miracle?

Then Star found her eyes meeting her father's, as he stared at her from the center of the room. There was a wildness about him, like excitement and desperation and exasperation all at once. Like tall grass on the open plains, blown about by a great wind.

"The Dragon, Star," he said urgently. "There he is again, just as he has been from the beginning."

Star felt her stomach lurch, knowing at once what he meant. The prophecy certainly did seem to speak of Zan. Whenever he appeared in magical riddles and rhymes, it was always as a Dragon, as if representing his whole people by himself. Rowan knew this. He knew that his daughter knew it. He was begging her to open her eyes at last.

She saw why he was trying to hard to reach her. The time for action was certainly drawing near, and she couldn't afford to blind for it. She was very aware of it; but there was still an empty coldness in her heart. All she could do was tear her eyes away from her father's, and stare silently at her feet, instead.

"You must know it" he went on, nearly pleading with her. "Star, you can't ignore it anymore – you just can't! Don't make the same mistake I did! Open your eyes, and listen, I beg you, my child. You have to."

But Star clapped her hands over her ears, terrified of doing as he said, and also of what could happen if she went on refusing him. What should have been an easy choice – a choice she had made in an instant a few years ago – was now tearing her apart.

As if he was the one being spoken to all along, Zamiel pushed himself off the railing and came to stand with the Titans in Star's place.

"You know I don't mean to question you, sir," he said quietly. "But that's my brother you're talking about. A beloved brother – the youngest – who I know to be dead. Spitefully dead, in the way that is most painful to us all, in place of someone of who that death was meant for. Surely, you can understand it is... difficult, to trust this rhyme."

He must have been prepared to defend himself from the rebuke of a mighty Titan. But Rowan simply nodded toward his younger sisters and said, "Of course I understand. I have no choice but to take the words at face value; but I would have been surprised if you had. It takes a great deal of foolishness, to believe in such things when you are hurting so deeply."

"Then, the rest of these words... What are we supposed to take from them? What do they mean?"

Rowan paused for a moment, thinking about it for himself. Nearby, Zeel had also bowed her head in thought over the words. It was no shock that Shaaran and Norriss drifted out of the crowd to join them. So close were the four, and so good with word puzzles, they might have been sharing a mind in that moment.

"The first part is about Heomiri, Lord of Fire," Shaaran mused first. "That much is obvious."

To this, Zeel scoffed. "The entire first half is about the Hallowed Father," she corrected. "It sounds as though His approach is being announced, and that He is coming with specific purpose."

"Casting aside the yolk of slavery, rescuing His people," Norriss agreed. "What of the Master, though? Could it be the Dragon Lord, or the greater evil they have served, do you think?"

Rowan shrugged at them. "Maybe both. They are very alike in wickedness, and so it is hard for me to tell. Whichever it is, they are doomed once the Lord of Fire appears. He has made that clear."

"What about the herald – this Dragon the words speak of?" Norriss asked. "You believe it to be Zan Garased, but how do you know it so surely?"

"It speaks of a faithful Dragon," Rowan answered simply. "There have been a few riddles over the years, speaking of a Dragon and faith in the same rhyme. In all these instances, it's pointed without fail to Zan – is that not true, my Small Star?"

From her place on the stairs, away from everyone else, Star glared at her father for hauling her further into this foolishness; but he wasn't wrong, and she found it was still impossible for her to lie.

"...Yes..." she grumbled, crossing her arms and scowling at the floor.

That was all they seemed to need. The four quarters nodded together, in whole agreement.

"Then that is perhaps how your brother has come into the city," Shaaran suggested to Zamiel. "If Zan, the Dragon, is Heomiri's herald, then he has bee brought back into the city by Deep Magic. To help rally your people and such, before the Lord of Fire arrives to make His first move against the Master. Oh, its all starting to make a little too much sense, if you ask me."

"I don't know about that, sister. What did the words mean about three days? It seemed strangely specific to me. Does that mean something to anyone here?"

Zeel hummed loudly over that. "It reminds me of something my daughter prophesied a few days ago. Three days ago, now that I think of it. She told me of it in the dungeon – something about a night, and a day, at least. It may be that we have had the answer, or at least a hint the whole time, and were too busy to know it."

Star knew at once which words her mother was talking about. It was part of the same riddle that had begged her to give Zan the Earth sigil in the first place. The night will end; the day will pass, the words had assured her. They had also promised, all ends will meet and mend, at last. At the time, Zan had guessed that the words were useless commentary on how changed the city would be, after the night of the ball and the following day had come and gone. They had both been annoyed that it gave no hint as to what those changes would be, and if they would be in the rebels' favor.

But much more than one night and one day had gone by, and didn't seem to her like any ends had been resolved yet.

Zamiel had listened to them patiently, happy to have straight answers from people he trusted so much. "And, what about the very last part? About the Mother, rising? What does that mean?"

The four looked between themselves, seeming to silently talk it over. Before they could answer, Zizi roused himself and pointed to a window, where the dawn was growing brighter by the moment.

"She's there," he rasped, as if it were obvious. "The Mother – The sun – she's rising, like it said. She's here. I can hear – can't you hear her? She's singing. It's happening right – right now. It's all happening."

No, in fact, no one else in the room could hear the sun singing as it rose; but if Zizi said that it was singing as it rose, then Star believed it. She wished she could hear its song; maybe it would heal her unbelief, so she could hope and rejoice like everyone else. It certainly seemed to have healed something in Zamiel, for as he stared out the window, at the rising sun, he was standing straighter, and a new light had filled his eyes.

"Solaris'ai'abra," he said to himself. "Seb'ai'yuka..."

He had changed his own words, as he had said he should. His men saw and heard this at once, and knew what it meant. Thrilled to see a little conviction in his face again, the rest of his squadron drew close.

"There are already plans in place, captain," Zane informed him. "We have others in the city summoning their own people, assigning posts, gathering arms and setting up defenses. The people are in motion. They are ready and willing to follow you, to whatever end. What are your orders?"

Zamiel took a deep breath, aas if inhaling all the strength and courage he had lost from the light of the sun. He was back. He was willing, and he was ready.

"We had discussed the cannons before, remember?" he said right away. "Is there someone seeing to that?"

Zane was so delighted, he looked like he might cry. "A number of people, captain. We haven't heard back from them, but some of the neighborhood kids volunteered to do it. All being well, they should have the cannons loaded and aimed at the palace by now."

"And the wall's defenses?"

"Breached," Zione announced. "The young lady leading that mission reported back last night. The armories in the Northside wall are empty, and the others were quickly following."

"Do we know what's happening in the sewers? If Keids ever wanted to lead his own army into the sunlight, now is the time."

To that, Marlie raised her hand to answer. "One of his crew visited us in the night – the woman Mavis, his left hand. She came after curfew and couldn't stay long, but she brought us a promise that the pirates were with us. She, too, mentioned the dawn, but didn't seem to know what it meant, herself. I believe we can expect them shortly."

She looked over her shoulder at the window, where the periwinkle sky was quickly turning pink and gold, and clicked her tongue. "Quite shortly," she added.

Zamiel seemed satisfied with that. "I think we can trust the sewer folk to handle the streets well enough. For sure, more monsters than ever will be sent to subdue us; but the common folk alone will outnumber them 50 to one, at least, and that is before the folk below us join the fray. What about the city's smallest children? The radio said they had been rounded up and taken somewhere – do we know where?"

The company shrugged sadly and shook their heads.

"We've kept our ears and eyes open, captain, but we haven't heard anything," Zhena said, sounding more wounded by it than anyone else. "Our best guess is either Old Rin, or within the palace, itself. There is nowhere else massive enough to hold so many small, frightened people at once."

"Then we will take care about those places," Zamiel assured her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We will find them, and we will free them like everyone else, make no mistake, my friend."

With that settled, he gazed over the company before him – young and old, male and female, Arin and Zebak with so many skills and talents between them – and clapped his hands together. "Then the only thing left is how to get into the palace. We will have to, if we are to finish our pretend queen's reign of terror once and for all. With the people seeing to all other posts, that task appears to be left to us."

He knew for sure that his men were with him. It was clear in their faces that they had been ready to storm the palace from the very beginning, and had awaited their captain's permission ever since. What he hadn't expected was for the Titan of Earth to rise, stand beside him, and grip his shoulder in friendship.

"I will join you in this mission, Zamiel Garased. I may not be a warrior; but with an unending source of strength in hand once again, I can be your shield."

Zamiel was aghast, for a number of reasons. "My lord, I would never ask – "

"First of all, I am not your lord, never say such things again," Rowan told him, almost severely. "Second of all, you don't have to ask. I wish to do this for you. I must do this, for I have dealings of my own with my so-called, 'hallowed sister'."

Zamiel saw what he meant, and didn't argue. This man had forgiven him, and found common ground with him, and was filled with the might and power of the stars. None of this could be said of Zadina. They needed each other in this moment.

With that decided, Zeel came to stand with him, and took his hand in her own. "Then I've no choice but to come with you."

"And neither do we," Norriss agreed, as he and Shaaran also joined them. "Now that we're together again, you won't be separating us that easily."

In another time, Rowan would have done anything he could think of to push them away, trying to protect them in the only way he knew how. Today, facing the greatest battle of their lives, he only smiled gratefully at their courage and loyalty. "Good," he said. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Don't forget about me," Annad said loudly, jumping into the circle they had formed. "If freeing people and dispensing justice is the name of the game, then I'm in. And don't even bother trying to talk me out of it, husband. I've waited my whole life for this! I'm going, whether you like it or not."

And so she was pleased that not one of them fought her over it. They welcomed her into the circle, glad to have her help.

"Zamiel, wait for me! I'm with you, too!"

The unexpected voice had come hollering the floor below, stamping up the stairs like a storm. All eyes turned to look, and Star's mouth fell open. It couldn't be... It just couldn't...

But it was. There, dripping wet, skirts torn, violet eyes shining, and grinning like a fool, stood Zan.