Hello! So I'm finally putting up this chapter. Starting here, what I post will be remastered/edited/improved versions of the old story's chapters, so less rewriting and more reworking, until I hit the place I stopped last time. I know it's not as exciting as brand new work, but I encourage you to follow along with it all the same and see the improvements. The reason I'm doing it this way is because starting around this point in the story is when my writing became more reminiscent of my current style and skill level, so it doesn't need to be completely started over, but I definitely have still edited through the entire thing and brought it further up to snuff. So enjoy, and stick with me - we'll get back to the new stuff soon!

Coming back was not coming home, and it was a sobering reality. Coming back was more uncomfortable, more unnerving, than being away had ever been. She was out of place here, and unhappy. More than that, she was suspicious, and that was something she had never felt before—not here. Fang told her it would pass. More than once he had apologized in private for sending her out "before she was ready," and she took all of his words, but they didn't reassure her as they would have not long ago. That, more than anything, bothered her. Why couldn't she just trust him again?

Why had she trusted him so to begin with?

Flare brought her staff up to rest the shaft gently against one shoulder as she walked, straight and silent, down the one long, wide hallway they just called The Tunnel. It was an odd name, really, considering that the entire facility was one big hole in the ground. Most of it was rooms, though; all but a few of the most secure connected to this hallway in some manner. It was straightforward and hidden away, and one could hardly even tell it was subterranean—except for windows, she thought. There were no windows here.

The sound of trotting footsteps from behind made her just barely glance to the side, her hand tightening about the polished wood it held. It wasn't long before someone fell into step beside her, but she never missed a stride. Even when the other young woman touched her shoulder familiarly, she merely twitched and leveled her eyes ahead.

"Hey, there you are. Doing okay?"

"Why should I be anything else?" she asked, her voice quiet and cool, deceptively unaffected.

The brunette human tilted her head and leaned forward just a bit with a crease through her brow. "I heard you had a rough time of it."

"I'm fine."

"That's it? C'mon, Flare. What happened? You were out of contact for a long time, but no one seems to know why. I've been trying to find you since I got back. All Echo could tell me was that he saw you coming back the other day with Fang."

"Echo should mind his own business, as should everyone else around here," Flare replied rather tersely. She was in a far from sociable mood. She hadn't been since her return, and she wasn't sure she ever would be again when it came to this place. Still, she drew a breath and continued.

"It was a mistake, Dusk. That's all. And yes, before you ask, said mistake has been corrected." She knew that the events surrounding her last mission had been kept very purposefully vague, and she had no desire to expound on them herself. Whether she liked it or not, she was part of the Circle again, and if it was going to be bearable at all, she would just as soon keep that particular incident to herself.

Dusk stopped dead in the hall and, with one hand wrapped around her elbow, forced her to stop, too. The other woman came around to stand before her, frowning brown eyes searching her face. "Yeah," she conceded slowly, "but you don't make mistakes, Flare. That's what I don't get. You're quick and smart and ridiculously careful, and you had a plan, and it wasn't exactly a royal assassination you were trying to pull off."

"If you're trying to imply my incompetence—"

"I'm not. Geez, Flare, I'm trying to figure out what could possibly have gone so wrong for you. I mean, Claw's been strutting around like a little girl with a new dress, but I've never known a better mind than yours. And yet here you are, skulking down the hall all by yourself, looking like you want to be anywhere but here behind that ice queen thing of yours. Talk to me. After what happened to you before Altamira, and then this, on your first mission since then, I know you're feeling the strain. Everyone hits patches, and I'm... I'm worried about you."

Flare took in every line on the earnest face with a detached expression of her own. If all of this really were a trick, a lie, everyone would have to be in on it. She was supposed to have been part of this organization for some time, and everyone here acted like they knew her. It would take an impractical amount of effort and coordination, and all for just the simple purpose of fooling her? It didn't make sense. But she didn't want to be here, and she didn't know how to trust them anymore. The uncertainty was maddening.

If only she had not been the one assigned to that trivial heist in Altamira. If only she had never collided with him.

"…Was it a guy?"

The voice that had turned almost sly pulled her back to the present as heat flushed through her face unwelcome and unbidden. She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes as her free hand fisted behind her back. "No," she stated, "it was not 'a guy.' May I go now?" She was not dragging his name back into this.

Dusk leaned forward and drew a soft gasp. "Itwas, wasn't it? You met someone on the island and it was love at first sight! Aww, Flare… That's so cute!"

"That's enough, Dusk. "

Both women looked up and back toward the approaching voice. Fang was coming toward them, his hands linked behind his back and an easy smile on his face. He looked so comfortable and confident, at home. Flare felt a muscle twitch in her jaw and turned her face away rather pointedly. The two of them had hardly spoken since their return, and the sight of him tightened several lines through her body. The misgivings she had about him were the worst part of all of this. She fought the voice that called him a villain, but she couldn't silence it completely.

She knew he had glanced her way, and knew he was looking at her again, but he addressed Dusk. So she listened, but she remained like a sentry as the other two spoke.

"You and Ice have the watch. Think you can handle the night alone with him?"

"Ice cream? No problem. He's a softy."

Flare closed her eyes with a silent groan, resisting the urge to plant her palm over her face at the abysmal pun. The exasperation evaporated, however, when Fang's quiet chuckle sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine.

"Maybe I should have asked if he could handle the night with you. Do you actually call him that to his face?" Folding his arms, the man leaned sideways against the nearby wall.

"When opportunity knocks." She practically sang the words, twirling a lock of hair around one finger. "It's really too bad you didn't ask me before you gave him his Second. I'm the very font of creativity, you know."

He hummed in amusement. From the corner of her eye, Flare watched him gesture toward her with a flick of his chin. "I didn't do so badly this last time. She tell you about the present she got the other day?"

Present.Bribe? The corner of her mouth twitched derisively before she could restrain the thought. Dusk's mouth had popped open, and she now stared at her outright.

"You got your Second? Why didn't you say something?! For goddess' sake, you are such a closed book. Same old Flare. Guess I'm not really that surprised."

Yes, same old Flare, she thought bitterly. Whatever the hell that meant. Was there even an "old Flare"? She still had no idea.

Despite herself, she felt the slightest start pass through her body when Fang came forward to put his hand on her shoulder and derail the halting train of thought. She wasn't oblivious to the gentle squeeze, either, but she merely dipped her head and replied with a soft, ambiguous, "Apparently." She glanced down the hall over her free shoulder restlessly; she wanted out of this hallway, out of this moment...

"…Well? Are you going to share, Your Highness?"

She stiffened at the tease of a title, her brow furrowing slightly as she finally looked back at Dusk. She was seeing something else, though.

Pink and black and red. Someone bowed to her in jest.

Her Highness...

"Come on. I need to know what to call you now—"

"I'm going on ahead. " The tension had finally mounted to its peak, and as she jerked her head to one side to banish this vague, meaningless snatch that left her more unsettled than she could even justify, she decided she had had enough. Without waiting for a word from either of them, she stepped around Dusk and continued on as she had been going before the ambush. Her face was smooth and stony, but her eyes, staring straight ahead with scarcely a blink, were hard and anxious. She heard the lowered, unintelligible voices behind her but ignored them. Fang had stopped the prying questions, and she felt reasonably sure he wouldn't then turn around and tell the story anyway.

She just wanted this whole episode put behind her. Raine Sage, Regal Bryant—none of it mattered. None of it could matter anymore.

Flare slipped through a door and took the short set of stairs leading downward to her right, all the while taking slow and deliberate breaths. She knew well the way to her leader's chamber. He called it his "office," but having spent a night cooped up in one, she also knew it bore little resemblance to its namesake. The most striking similarity, actually, was the presence of bookshelves along one wall. Shelves to which, once upon a time, she had been allowed eager access while a chuckling man looked on. Now she just stared at them wearily for a few seconds, took a single, half-hearted step toward them, and then turned away to find a place in the corner to plant herself and wait while she tried to ground herself again.

She had been summoned, presumably for a mission briefing. Perhaps she could have asked Fang about it in the hall, but there had been a level of casual camaraderie in that hall that had promised far more small talk than she cared to share. So she folded her arms tight over her torso, rested the sole of one foot back against the wall, and locked her eyes squarely on the floor.

The minutes passed without breaking her solitude. She tried not to think at first, just rubbing her heel absently against the wall. When she did glance up idly after a little while, however, she caught sight of the scattered papers and maps strewn over a low table and several chairs. He was a smart man, a cunning man, but he enjoyed a certain level of disorganization. Ordinarily it wouldn't mean much to her, other than the passing thought that such disarray would drive her crazy—but this time, a tiny notion wriggled up into the back of her mind and planted itself, not easily dismissed once it had risen. The longer she let her eyes trail over the pages from across the room, the clearer the question became:

Was it possible there was something in this room, in the Circle's records, files, and intelligence…that was relevant to her?

Flare lowered her foot slowly and looked sideways at the closed door, her pulse quickening just a little. Some information was clearly understood to be off-limits unless shared, specifically and intentionally, by their leader himself. It was unthinkable to rifle through whatever was in here on one's own—or rather, it had been a few weeks ago. Now it was a great temptation. She tapped her fingers gently, a little nervously, against her thigh and chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment. It wasn't exactly strange that she felt such hesitation; after all, despite how foolish it now seemed to have trusted this place, these people, unconditionally, the fact was that she had. But she had to know, and there was nothing between her and this unsanctioned research project. At least for now.

She pushed away from the wall and almost surprised herself with how quickly she crossed the room. Glancing toward the door again fleetingly, she bent over the table and began flipping through some of the papers. There were scouting and recon reports, lists, several pages of what would look to an untrained eye like nothing more than random numbers. But after she had slid aside several of these, her fingertips found a small packet. There in the corner, after she had tugged it a little further into view, she could make out the name, Raine Sage, and her heart skipped a beat. Unable even to blink, she lifted the bound sheets in both hands and stared at that name.

The softclick of the closing door startled her like a guilty child and made her spin around, the papers crinkling at the edges where her fingers closed more tightly around them. Fang stood there, one hand on the knob and eyes not on the object of her quasi-theft, but on her face. He almost looked…sad.

"Well. You're certainly as curious as ever."

Flare pulled turned her quarry around to display the name scrawled in his own handwriting, barely letting him finish before demanding in a tight, deadly murmur, "What is this?" Her voice shook ever so subtly, and she searched his face even when he brought a hand up to rub at his forehead.

He started slowly toward her, extending one hand in a gentle and unassuming gesture one might use to comfort a friend. Unfortunately, she felt more like a cornered animal. "Flare—"

"What is it?" she snapped. She took a step back, holding the packet in only one hand now but still displaying it very clearly for him to see.

He raised both of his own palms in a passive stance and stayed where he was. His eyes found hers and held them for a few quiet seconds. It was a silent request for patience, but one to which she made no obvious response. "That," he began quietly, "is what I wanted to talk to you about. And if you'll stop glaring at me for a minute, I'll explain."

"Then explain."

Fang took a deep breath and ambled over to lower himself on the arm of a chair whose seat was part of the clutter. Leaning forward on one thigh, he looked back up at her. "It's been three days, Flare. You've hardly said a word since we left Altamira. I knew you were upset and confused. I had just hoped being back home would help you forget about it. ...About him."

She stiffened again. "This isn't about anyone but me—"

"You're wrong, Flare. This is about Bryant and a woman who has been dead for four months."

Her grip slackened a bit, and her glower followed suit. "D…dead?" Lips parted, her gaze fell to the papers in her hand. The chair creaked when he pushed back to his feet to come toward her.

"I tried to tell you." He touched her arm. "He was playing you, Flare. I knew you had gotten…attached to him, and I thought it was best to just get you out of there as soon as possible. But you weren't the same…so we did some digging on that name he was spewing." Fang tapped the corner of the packet with his free hand. "Raine Sage. Half-elf, sister, Hero of Regeneration. Most of what he told you was truth, Flare—but it wasn't about you."

Flare looked up absently, then back down at the papers, stalled. That wasn't possible. With a distracted, fumbling grasp, she flipped the front page aside and stared at the map drawn on the next. One tiny village was circled, with a line to a list of achievements and events written in the margin. The achievements and events of a woman who…was dead? "Iselia," she mumbled. The village they were going to visit.

"Yes. She lived in Iselia for five years before the worlds were reunited. We even found the burnt-out shell of the hovel she shared with her little brother."

"…Genis…"

"Is nothing to you. He doesn't even know you exist. We are the only family you have, Flare. Bryant was feeding you someone else's life from the start, because there was no one there to contradict him. He did know her. He was one of those so-called heroes. And you were vulnerable. He was able to impose upon your fragmented memory the identity of a dead woman. Think about it: Did you ever speak to anyone other than him?"

Had she? Not really, come to think of it. Perhaps the authorities who had incarcerated her in the first place, but they certainly didn't seem to know her. The rest of the time, she had been hidden away in his home or walked about the town like a dog on a leash. "…N-no…"

"Why do you think that is? If you were this 'Raine,' and you were in the distress he claimed, shouldn't his first response have been to call your brother straight to the island? Yet you were with him for weeks. Did he ever once mention any such plan to you?"

She shook her head vaguely, her brow drawing more and more.

"Of course not. Because you are not Raine Sage and he had no intention of doing so. Flare, you are smarter than this. You and this woman share a race, a gender, and a magical affinity, and that's all. You've trusted me until now, and I'm asking you to trust me again. I've never asked anything of you that you felt incapable of doing. I know you're confused, but just…look at what we found. It's all there. I wish it weren't, because I know you wanted to believe him, but just look."

She stared at him as he took a tiny step backward and nodded at the stack in her hand. Everything he said made sense—but everything Bryant had told her had made sense at the time, too. So what made this different? Slowly, perhaps reluctantly in an idiotic way, she tugged the Sylvaranti map aside and pawed through the rest of the pages.

Her perusal started out slow and cautious, but there was so much there. It was like tumbling downhill, gathering speed with no ability to stop. Names and dates that meant nothing to her, but apparently had meant a great deal to someone; letters from people she didn't know as well as some apparently written by Sage herself, in a hand she had never seen before. She went over and over the contents of the reconnaissance, not even realizing that by the end she was almost desperate for something to click and spark images like she had seen in that dream. Nothing did, though. It was all a blank, and the final page clinched it.

She was looking at someone else's life and legacy, and none of it…had anything to do...with her.

Flare let all of the other sheets fall into a heap at her feet as she stared at the certificate of death she held. It bore the seal of Sylvarant's only known centralized government—every one of them was drilled until they could pick it out down to the minutest detail for the purpose of keeping tabs on official correspondence between countries. There was absolutely no mistaking it. "'The Office…of the Governor-General,'" she read faintly, "'in tandem with…the Holy Church of Martel… Palmacosta…in the Sovereign Nation of Sylvarant… This is to certify that the Esteemed Lady, Professor Raine Sage, is deceased…and has been buried with full rites and...and honors...appropriate…for…'" Her voice finally trailed away, unable to continue.

At the bottom were the names of both Sylvarant's Governor-General and the official responsible for the document's creation, printed and signed. Deaths in or near Palmacosta were treated with more ceremony and procedure than anywhere else in the nation, as she understood; it was the only true city, and the home of all efforts to create a country-wide government. But that meant there was no mistake. Nothing this deliberate could be a mistake.

The only sound she could hear, in spite of Fang saying her name, was the rustling of paper in trembling fingers.

He had lied to her. He really had lied to her.