IT IS OVERRR!

Last chapter. Wheeee! A bit shorter than I had expected, but… oh well!

I hope, that even with the spoiler summary, it still is surprising. XD

Please R&R. I'd love to know what you think about this chapter.

Chapter 7

I shake my head no. "That is impossible," I say, refusing to believe his cruel words. "You lie! She is my sister. I tell you, she is my sister!"

"No," Daray says, his voice loud and strong, covering my own. "Have you ever wondered how the rest of your sisters have dark hair, as our family has had for the last several generations, and how Katrina managed to have fair hair? Have you wondered how she managed to have such soft blue eyes when the rest only have dark brown and hazel?"

"Just because she is different does not mean anything!" I protest. "She's unique, she's—"

"What is your earliest memory?" he interrupts. "What is your earliest memory of her? What is it?"

I consider the idea, my face paling every moment. "I remember her stepping off a carriage," I say softly in a far-away voice, my eyes glazed over as I try to recall every sound, every feeling, every color in sight. "I remember standing at the doorway next to Mother. She told me, 'Kellyn, this is your sister, Katrina. She is reunited with us once more.'" I hesitate, looking at him questioningly. "She's not my sister," I say, my voice growing horrified. "She's not my sister!"

"No, she's not your sister," he agrees.

No words are spoken for a short time. I then say, "If you are my brother, will you be the one to inherit the throne?"

He shakes his head. "The honor is yours, Kellyn. Father does not know of me as his son."

"But I can't marry you!" I protest. "I can't, not that I have been given such knowledge—"

"You won't marry me," he says. "There are ways to work around." He tries to get up, and I help him. "Perhaps we can find a way out, first? Do you know where you came from?"

I look around. Indeed, I do not know. "We have two of the ten possibilities secured," I say. "I have the key to a single one." I point towards the one I stand directly in front of. "Let us try our luck with this one."

He hesitates, then agrees, I help him walk through the tunnel. It seems to never end, continuing constantly, until at last the walls begin to move, closing in on us. Horrified, I look about. "It's not this one!" I cry. "Let us leave at once!"

He shakes his head no. "I am an injured body; both of us will die if you take me with you! You must go alone!"

"No, no," I say, trying to help him out. "I will not leave if you will not leave."

"Don't do this," he says, looking at me straight in the eye. "I will see you sometime again. Spare your life. Our country cannot survive if you do not live! Go!"

I am helpless as I race out alone. Tears run down my face as I cast him one last glance.

"Kellyn!" he calls out. I turn around. "I remember… a rhyme…"

"A rhyme?" I repeat. "It's not the time—"

He pays no attention to me, however, and says in a hasty manner as I continue to run,

One of ten will lead you out,

Another two will kill you.

They murder, looking face to face,

The others, watching the two.

The savior falls down on them,

Take three turns from the kill,

The seven patient watchers

Wait in pointed hills.

I manage to escape as the walls completely close. I fall to the floor, crying.

He is gone forever. Disappeared from all life, never to be seen again. On the day we were reunited, we were separated; how cursed my life is!

I weep, but I recover. He has died for me; I shall not let him down. I look at the floor and fine a design of the sun in the center, its rays going in seven directions. I ignore them, however, and walk over three, hoping I was wandering in the correct direction.

As I reached the end, I discovered that it was correct; the ray of sunshine beamed across my face. I exit. Looking back, I notice how the exit was well hidden behind the trees.

I wander into the gardens. However, once relieved from such penalty, I feel guilt. I could have saved him. We could have escaped together. I had been the one to chose the path. I could have chosen another. It was completely my fault.

Completely.

I fall down and cry once more. I stop, however, when a shadow falls in front of me. Startled, I look up, finding Daray standing there. I smile, delighted, and I start to call his name with utter joy, before I realize he holds a cruel smile on his face, standing their, no blood stains whatsoever, no limp in his legs.

"What are you crying over?" the imposter says cruelly.

"I do not find any reason to tell you," I reply. "You will not find sympathy with me, even should I speak."

"There is no sympathy with such harsh words that exit your mouth," he replies. "I am deeply hurt."

I eye him coldly before I recall the conversation in the center of the labyrinth. If it is true that my sweetest sister Katrina does not share the blood that runs through my veins, who is she? She has gone. Did Daray know something about her that I do not? Why did he lure her away?

Yet, it seems that he was not the one lured away; it appears that he has been the one who had fallen. And if he was last seen with Katrina…

…it all falls into place. I recall my dream I had so many nights ago. My eyes spark up and I say, "Perhaps you can tell me where Katrina is. If you are to share with me your secret, perhaps I ought to share mine with you." He begins to sneer a reply before I interrupt him. "It is a secret I think you would like to know. Or perhaps you simply cannot tell me where you have hid Katrina, because you are Katrina herself?"

The imposter freezes, staring at me absurdly for a few seconds before his eyes begin to darken with anger. "What do you know?" he hisses.

"I know more than you would like for me to know, witch," I reply, composed. I continue in a biting manner, "You were my favorite sister. You were the one I cared for most. How could you?"

"How can I?" Katrina says, furious, coming from behind the bushes, approaching the imposter's side. "Why is it that you have the power of the throne when I cannot? Was I born too late? Oh, no, maybe because I was born from a different family altogether—"

"But I still cared for you!" I interrupt, tears filling my eyes once more. "I never wanted to be queen. I would have willingly given the position up for you! Now where are you? People have been murdered; Mother has been thrown out of the kingdom, as I have seen in my dreams at the age of six. And what about you?" I say, my voice a mere frail whisper.

"What about me?" she says defiantly.

"We loved you. And you betrayed us," I say, my voice weak, my eyes desperate, searching for one last feeling in her own eyes before turning away. But luck would not have it any other way. She gives a single quiet command and my hands were bound. I was thrown into prison.

There was no cracker nor bread for me to eat, no water nor wine for me to drink. At long last, when I am starved and depraved, the door enters. Frederick is there. I look at him accusingly.

"I wasn't supposed to help you," he says. "I was supposed to kill you when I saw you. That was my mission, the mission that was given to me by the King, and by Katrina."

My face pales. "What?" I say, confused.

He pauses before continuing in a low voice, "I hear you know Katrina is not your sister. By much of the same process, the King is not your father, but the son of the nobles that attempt to overthrow him. He came at the same time as Katrina. When I found you, I had imprisoned you on my mission—before I had realized you did not deserve to die." His eyes darts to the door quickly, afraid that someone may come in. "I tried to help you instead, to coach you. I was not given the chance yet when they learned of my intentions and sent Erik to release you, so that they could kill you."

Erik. I am extremely wistful and horrified at the same time.

"He was the one who took the potion in the disguise of Daray. Both the king and Katrina are in a family of witches that have eluded every trap that had been set down. It was even easier in the king's rule, for he knew where not to lay the traps down and faked the captures, saying they had died when in fact, they had been released. The queen, though, is, indeed, your mother. They wanted to kill her, but the king had been unwilling to kill such a beautiful lady. However, when it proved that it was impossible that she should remain living, though she has kept all the secrets well, she was thrown out of the kingdom, then killed."

"Killed?" I repeat, horrified, my eyes wide, my breath stopped short. Blood pounds in my ears as my heart beats surprisingly fast. I remember now—my birth father, a bright look in his eyes, young, carefree, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes, throwing me up in the air, then catching me once more.

I remember Mother coming into my room, crying, but never speaking a word.

I remember Father's casket as it was lowered.

I remember the current king stepping down from the carriage, tears streaming down Mother's face.

He nods. "Prodita was a spy," he continues. "She did, though, go out to buy lace the other day. We used it to bind the dead." He pauses, looking around. "I must get you out," he says, examining the lock. He is about to speak again when the doors burst open and a sword is thrust into Frederick's back.

I gasp, not willing to comprehend the sight. Blood spurts from the wound. He has no last words before he dies. Blood spills onto the floor, staining my feet. I look up at Katrina, horrified.

"He deserves that," she says angrily. "He betrayed us."

"He betrayed you in the same way you betrayed me," I whisper.

"I was never on your side in the first place," she says stiffly.

I shake my head. "You were, when you became my sister."

"I was never your sister," she says in the same stiff voice.

I shake my head once more. "You once were, but not now." I look away, tears gleaming in my eyes. "I am sorry that the deaths were in vain, the efforts unseen to, the dreams unfulfilled." I stare straight into Katrina's blue eyes, saying, "Why?"

She looks at me closely before responding, "It was not my choice to make." The fist that holds the lace is deathly white, clenched so hard, it is shaking. I see a flicker of apology in her eyes. She looks away, blinking back tears, as she thrusts the sword into my own heart.

Rush of blood.

Pain.

Burning.

Cold.

All is black.

It was the end of the troubles for another ten generations, when the betrayers had finally been victorious. But they hadn't been victorious. Shortly after their win, Katrina had committed self-murder, filled with the guilt and agony of having killed others. The king did not care, but his rule grew treacherous and terrible. His name was feared, and no country related themselves with them. The once flourishing country became dead.

It drifted out to sea, banished by the other neighboring countries, forbidding it to be near them. For years, it was untouched, the people weary. Soon, they were forgotten, and the tale from sailors were passed on, of how they had seen a great island full of mystery, with technology so great it was better than the rest of the world's combined.

The idea grew popular and it was recorded down, but not all of it was true, for what they believed to be advanced jets were merely large vultures circling the island, preying on the dead meat.

Perhaps you, too, have heard the tale of the island of Atlantis?