Chapter Two:

Turning

I feel a change in the air

The horizon stirs

Above, the lightning flares

And the wheel starts to turn

-The Mask Slips Away, Red

{Karai}

I glance up at the skylight as the rain begins to fall. It patters and clacks against the glass, disrupting the silence of my room. I stare at the clouds rumbling overhead and smothering the night in fog and chill.

What I would give to simply climb out and disappear. I sigh and blow out the candle by the bed.

It's the middle of the night. Normally I would be wandering the city, but Father has been recovering for over a week now, and has ordered me to remain inside until our forces have strengthened. In other words, his ass was handed to him and the realization has all but crippled him.

Our bond has never been strong, but I have never seen it so weak before. He's become unsure of my loyalty, of everything we have ever had—I guess that makes two of us. He keeps me on an ever-shortening leash, convinced I'm conspiring against him. I can't say I blame him, though. Thoughts of abandoning my "clan" and running away to have my own life somewhere have been quite tempting as of late. But I'm sure he would find me. And probably kill me.

I get up and walk out of my room, across the hall, down the endless layers of stairs and corridors. The rain picks up, pounding against the windows on every side of me. I wish the storm would shatter the glass and set me free, or that the lightning would strike and burn this place to the ground.

Everything is unusually quiet. I don't see any guards, and those two lab rats Father hired aren't sniffing around either. I head toward his throne room where he insists on staying and push the massive doors open. They creak and groan at the task of revealing the candlelit hall and glowing waters sealed beneath the thick glass floor.

I see him sitting there, and my eyes narrow on his bandaged form. He's speaking to someone on the other end of his phone, keeping his voice low. He glances at me and ends the connection. Beep.

Something's up. I knew it.

The doors close heavily behind me. I approach his throne, hand on my hip. "What're you doing, Father? Who was that?"

He scowls at me as he struggles to rise from his chair. His wounds fester, deep and relentless beneath the stained gauze. He was lucky to escape the last encounter with Splinter and the turtles.

Unfortunately.

"Business," he answers, short and taut. "Business that I must attend to."

His clothes and wrappings are soaked with sweat. I take a step toward him, my hand reaching out to stop him when he inevitably collapses. "You're not healed yet—do you really think you should be—"

"There is no rest, Karai," he snaps. "The longer I sit here like this, the longer our clan suffers from the stain on our honor."

I straighten my shoulders. You're the stain on our honor.

But there is no use in arguing over this anymore. I submit, I obey—for now.

"Yes, Father."

He winces, nostrils flaring at the exertion. But he stands, fists clenched, and begins to descend the steps.

"Observe the recruitment training," he growls. "I will be gone awhile."

"The recruits are asleep," I remind him. "It's the middle of the night."

Thunder shouts outside the walls. A flash streaks across the windows. The rain pours.

"Wake them up, then." He mutters something about no rest under his breath. I swear, this man is growing more insane by the day.

I turn to watch him limp from the room. "Where are you going?"

Somehow, he reaches the doors, and somehow, he manages to pry them back open. I can hear his teeth grit at the effort it takes. He's weaker than I thought.

His gruff voice echoes through the throne room. The candles flicker at the sound.

"We have company."

He leaves—the doors shut, booming along with the thunder.

The rain pours.