A/N: Well hello everybody! Happy Sunday...or not. I have no desire to go anywhere tomorrow. Also, RIVELAZIONE: I've just looked at my Chapter List on Word and having written the first 27 (28 now) and the last 3, I can conclude that I only have ONE MORE CHAPTER left to draft and then I have finished the entire trilogy. Actually have no idea what I'm going to feel after finishing. Probably something akin to grief. I have also enraged my Inner Fangirl by buying my brother The Game Of Which We Do Not Speak ("The Lost Frontier") for Christmas. She is now off on a Dark-fuelled rampage. Meanwhile, the trilogy has NOT finished 'cause here's chapter 25. Read, review, wriggle a bit. Maybe. I dunno. SHUT UP MIKA. ~ Mika

PS: JKA: Rapace is roughly a year older than Damas' eldest.

Deep underground, beneath a large expanse similar to the Wasteland, The Voice screamed in frustration, a scream that reverberated off the walls and struck fear into the hearts of all Service Members. It knew that Hara'in had renounced her commitment to the Service. It didn't know why, or how. It just knew.

"Voice of Many, you are in pain," an older Service member said, faking concern in his voice. He shivered with the cold and the chill infused by the scream.

"Hara'in has turned traitor!" the Voice hissed, the crystal it embodied flaring a dazzling white in anger. "Take five of your best Service members. Find her, and kill her. She is probably with Saldam – if so, kill them both, and I'll double the reward."

The man bowed. "Of course, Voice of Many."

"Of course, to find both of them, you may want their real names," the Voice said thoughtfully. The man thought to himself that if the Voice had a body and a beard, it would probably stroke the beard.

"Their...their real names?" the man said hesitantly.

"Of course!" the Voice insisted. "They're hardly going to hold a desire to associate themselves with the Service if they've turned traitor and left, are they?"

"I suppose." The man took a deep breath. "Okay. May I acquire their real names?"

There was a pause. "Saldam's real name is Damas Mar Hagai and Hara'in's – "

The man gasped. "The heir to the Sandover and Spargus City thrones? He was part of the Service?"

"DO NOT interrupt me!" the Voice boomed. "Yes, Prince Damas was once a part of the Service."

"Why did he leave?"

"I believe it was because his pregnant wife was a target," the Voice purred. Evidently, It did not have any qualms about revealing the history of past Service members.

The man shivered in the cold. "And...and Hara'in's real name, Voice of Many?" he ventured tentatively.

"Ah yes, Hara'in Kahlreina's true, mortal, common name," the Voice replied, again almost thoughtfully. "Her name is Sara Krazak, née Kahlreina. Originally from Allabinah, married a Havener and had a son whom she has not seen for most of his life. Used to date Damas, codename Saldam Ar'Aigham. They have a history together."

The man swallowed. "Th-thankyou, Voice of Many. I will do as you say." He turned tail and vanished before the Voice could tell him more information about Hara'in and Saldam – Sara and Damas – that he didn't need to know.

~x~

Rapace knew he had to be sneaky as this sort of thing was illegal in Sandover, but he had no choice. He held a burning desire to understand who his real father was, and how close to home he was if the teenager knew him personally. Oreyn, Jayelle and Kieron were stuck at the semi-empty Mar household – in fact, an unexpected snowstorm had brought the whole city to a halt, having never experienced such a storm before. Heavy flakes had fallen the previous night and continuing to fall, with desert whispers and secondary rumours claiming that the storm had drifted all the way from the Perdennines.

Rapace was never one to be restricted by something as simple as a snowstorm, a trait he shared with a few members of his adopted family.

Stomach still twinging in agony from his Dark episode the previous night, he wrapped up well, concealing the small plastic bag in an inside pocket. Snatching up his keys, he made sure all the doors and windows were locked before hurrying out, the snow overpowering his thick, waterproof boots, chilling his feet as it slipped inside them. Drawing close to himself, he hurried down the street, Eco-white snow blinding him, forcing him to look up. Flakes obscured his vision and the city became a blur before him even as he ran, ran faster and harder than the time with his father –

Yuhmer, Rapace.

– than the time with the tyrannical Yuhmer.

The man he'd addressed as "Dad" in a scared whimper for so long. Not "called". Not willingly.

Eventually, he reached the place he knew he had to go. He'd looked it up the night before, writing down the address on a slip of paper which he now held in his hands. Looking at the ground to check for deadly ice, black or otherwise, he navigated snow-weighted Zoomers abandoned on the streets, well-trodden corners and tight streets to finally reach this place. He shook the snow off himself before approaching the help desk.

"Hello, Rapace M-Mar?"

The lady at the desk uttered a little "oh" before greeting the teenager with a smile. "Rapace Mar at fourteen hours twenty? Sit down right over there. Someone should be with you shortly."

"Thankyou," Rapace croaked, taking one of the hard plastic seats. Try as he might – and it wasn't due to the hard seats in question – he could not force his body in any other position than bolt upright. Minutes stretched, passing almost lazily but agonisingly as every sound unnerved him, every vocal sound made him jump.

It was lucky he looked older than he was and Oreyn was a fantastic forger of his father's handwriting, otherwise Rapace would surely have been taken in for questioning.

"Rapace Mar?"

As he ascended from his seat, he felt the eyes of the others in the waiting room on him. He tried to ignore them, but his face and neck were completely red, like a turkey's at Winter Festival Celebrations. He was met by a kind-faced man who shook his hand when he entered the room.

"Hello, sir. Do you have the swab with you?"

"Uh...y-yes, I do," Rapace stammered, going redder by the second, feeling certain that he was betraying his age. He reached inside his coat for the plastic bag, heart pounding in relief when he clenched his hand around it. Gripping as tightly to the bag as possible, he brought it out and laid it gently on the desk, as if it was a bomb. The man in front of him snapped on latex gloves and picked up the bag, smoothing it out without damaging or altering the information contained within it.

"Okay..." The older man looked at it for several seconds before putting it on a small white table behind him. "We'll get this tested as soon as possible, but remember that it could take up to a week to process the results before they get back to you."

" 'Kay," Rapace replied stiffly. "Is...is there anything else?"

"Uhh..." The man checked his notes. "I believe not, considering you gave in the note of permission when you booked the appointment with us." He smiled at Rapace. "Thank you, and hope to see you in a week."

"Thankvyou," the teenager replied. Both men stood up and shook hands and the younger one quickly got up and exited the building quickly, face burning red against the freezing cold snow caressing his face.

He'd done the duty.

All there was left to do was sit and wait.