When Sakajin awoke to the sound of a low drone and a dark room, the first thing that flooded her mind was a feeling of panic. Despite the logic of the situation, the anxiety that saturated her mind made her feel suffocated, unable to breathe as the entirety of her situation began to fill her memories once more.

The last thing she could truly remember was accepting the fact that she was all alone on a planet overrun by the forces of the Republic Army. She remembered running, hiding away, and then ...nothing. There were voices, but beyond a feeling of terror nothing stuck out in her mind. And so there she awoke in the darkness, the air filled with a noise she couldn't honestly place.

Where was she? Well, any guess was good at that point. The room itself was dark, the only source of light being a dim glow that came from the back of the room. When she tried to stand herself up, something stopped her.

At first, Sakajin thought it was merely a trick of the mind. All too quickly it became apparent that the pressure around one of her wrists was not a mere trick of the mind. She couldn't move more than a few steps away from where she'd been laying before the hum and pressure of the cuff around her wrist kept her from going any further. Sakajin glanced towards her restraint.

It was an energy cuff, evident in its soft pink glow that barely lit up the bed and floor beneath the woman's feet. Sakajin cursed under her breath, trying the strength of the restriction with a few sharp tugs of her arm. It buzzed with every pull, the electric line crackling down to where the other cuff of the pair was shut tight around one of the metal fixtures making up the frame of what she could only assume was acting as a bed, with the same thin mattress and blanket that she'd seen before.

How long had she'd been out?

What was even worse, upon closer inspection, she had neither the tools or the knowledge to fiddle with the piece of tech, maybe even overload and short it out. If Sakajin wasn't already on a constant, base-level of panic at the moment, that sure would have been enough to make her heart-rate spark.

The only thing worse than being locked up in a dark room: being restrained in a dark room. It set every nerve on edge for her, feeling as though she was being pulled in despite logic telling her otherwise.

Sakajin breathed, slowly, and calmed her mind and heart as best as she could.

The darkness itself wasn't much of an issue. Where a pure-blooded humans might only be able to make out faint shapes and shadows in such darkness, she, being partially Tarael in biology was able to pick out the same level of detail as if someone had lit a small flame in front of her. It wasn't much, and there certainly wasn't much to see in the room, but the simple fact of being able to see at all was something of a comfort.

The room was small. Barely larger than her quarters back on the Black Halo. There was a bed, a small table, but that was all. The door was on the other side of the room, opposite of both Sakajin and the bed; there was a small sliver of light shining from it, from the bottom crack where it probably lead into some sort of hallway.

There were muffled voices outside, too low for her to pick-up easily, too low to hear the words themselves. The fact that the voices didn't sound aggressive or angered was enough to keep Sakajin from panicking any further. She resigned to her temporary fate in not being able to get out of her restraints, and merely sat on the bed to contemplate on things.

And there were many things worth contemplating on.

Being alone, being captured. She never once thought in her life she would be taken as a prisoner, and much less so as a prisoner of war, but she had heard plenty of horror stories that her imagination hardly even needed to work for her to feel afraid about what might happen to her.

But she hadn't been found fighting or otherwise opposing the clone squads who had taken the base. With no information on her to prove if she was a threat, Sakajin felt a glimmer of hope that she could lie her way out of certain doom of a Republic jail.

But...

Still, it didn't explain her restraints, being locked in a room, or the attempted deprivation of her sight. It didn't explain a lot of things that still kept her mind whirling with anxiety and questions, no matter how much the woman tried to rationalize them all away.

Oh, so very much to think about in the absence of anything else to do.

It must have been an hour that passed while Sakajin waited. For what? For anything, honestly. She was waiting for that door to open, whatever might come from behind it. And after that long, empty, silent hour, the door did open.

The soft, wispy sound of seamless shifting metal was enough to grab her attention. The woman, despite feeling blinded by the light that flooded the room, tried to get a glimpse at the figure that stepped inside.

It was hard to see past all the brightness, but by the weight of the footsteps and the hum that she heard, she could figure that it was a man-and a pretty tall one at that. The door closed behind him and the lights of the room switched on. Though they weren't nearly as bright, the woman's sensitive eyes had at least desensitized themselves enough that it didn't hurt to look at him.

"Imagine our surprise finding someone like you here," A low, amused voice commented from several paces in front of the bed. Sakajin opened her eyes and looked at the owner.

He really was tall. Taller than her, but certainly not as tall as Grievous. Maybe six foot? Sizable and strong, if going by the broadness of his shoulders and the way he held himself. The man was a leader of some sort; Sakajin could pick that out right away.

As she took in more of his appearance, the apprentice began to notice more and more of the details of his amor. It was clone, obviously enough. The design, the symbols, everything down to the shape of the helmet itself was enough to tell her the man was a clone. Sakajin already knew to expect one, so it wasn't like that information in itself was all that surprising.

Before she could even open her mouth to give off either something snarky or genuine (there wasn't enough time to even figure that out), the man lifted his hands up and removed his helmet.

Now, Sakajin knew very well what clones were. Copies of the original, supposedly in every way, shape, and form. Though she could hardly believe that someone could make an entire army's worth of them, it was intimidating enough to know who they were based on; Jango Fett. His name was synonymous with skill, known even to some no-good orphan making a life for herself on Coruscant. She expected to see a face that looked similar to the several she'd already seen on the videos accessible on the network of the Black Halo. Videos that might have been illegally obtained at some point, both on the battlefield and the clone's homeworld, Kamino.

Sakajin didn't expect the face she saw. He was a clone, definitely so, but it wasn't hard at all to miss the giant, misshapen scar that covered half his face. There was a patch of hair that extended just above the hairline and behind the ear that had never grown correctly, leaving his haircut slightly lopsided, though it was obvious he kept it very well otherwise.

She tried not to stare.

The key word was 'try'.

The clone noticed right away what her attention was drawn to when he removed his helmet, either through the attentiveness of her eyes, or simply the way her mouth gaped open ever so slightly. Unperturbed and almost surprisingly casual, he held the helmet in one hand while the other reached up and gestured over the burned, scarred side of his face.

"Happened in my first real combat mission," The clone said, shrugging as he dropped the helmet on the small table beside the bed. He didn't sit beside her, but his stance was...relaxed. Casual, even. "Someone thought it was a great idea t'give a Geonosian a flamethrower. Can still see outta that eye, surprisingly enough."

Sakajin didn't respond. She didn't know if it was through an unwillingness to cooperate with someone she'd been trained to see as an enemy, or simply because she didn't know how to respond to someone who was being so...kind? She half-expected someone to come rolling in, verbal guns blazing, trying to force out some sort of confession or answer so they had enough reason to shoot her in the head and be done with it.

The silence didn't deter the clone, who merely let out a sigh, crossed his arms, and gave her a somewhat stern look.

"What's your name?" He asked. "We couldn't find anything to identify ya' when you straight up passed out on us. Gave us all a bit of a scare, finding this lil' thing in the back of the complex huddled up in a closet."

Was that an insult? Sakajin wasn't sure if she should have taken it as one or not, and merely pursed her lips. Should she answer? Act dumb? Obviously they didn't figure out that she wasn't some captured civilian. They had no record or knowledge she had been related to General Grievous in any way, considering she had never seen actual combat before that mission.

Playing dumb seemed to be Sakajin's speciality anyway.

"Sakajin," She murmured, figuring it wasn't hurtful to give her first name.

The clone perked up, almost seeming surprised to hear her answer. He repeated her name, and it was obvious he wanted more than that, but the woman didn't give him an inch.

"Sakajin," She repeated, huffing before pulling her legs up to her chest in a moment of genuine annoyance. "...Do you have one?"

"Excuse me?" The clone asked, looking at her with a confused expression. His brows furrowed.

Sakajin clarified her question. "You're a...well, a clone right?" She wasn't sure if pointing out the obvious was insulting, and the tone of her voice seemed to communicate that plenty. "I mean, do you all have names? Do they name you when you're…." she searched for the word. "-created? Or do you just have numbers?"

That was how it worked with droids, at least; none of them got names. Just one number after another in an ever-increasing cycle. She remembered memorizing quite a number of them over the years.

The clone didn't look all that offended, luckily enough. In fact, Sakajin felt surprised to hear him chuckling at her words. The expression of confusion or sternness broke into amusement, a smile across his lips. It was...kinda surreal, honestly.

She was making small talk with whom she had saw only as an enemy. It was one of the many intricacies of war and combat she never really thought about.

Sakajin nearly jumped when she felt the bed dip beside her. The clone, for lack of any other identifier at the moment, watched her with even more amusement. It was as if he was waiting for her to start puffing up like some scared little woodland creature. But she didn't (thank god for her short fur), and merely stared at him in kind.

"...My number is AE-2343. Not all that flashy, honestly." He took in a breath and let it out, as if he was contemplating something. "-But I'm also called Scorch."

"I wonder how you got that name," Sakajin said, feeling laughter start to bubble up from her chest. "Must have taken a lot of thinking."

"That's how a lot of clones get their names," Scorch said gently, leaning forward, but still glancing over to Sakajin every couple moments. "Mistakes, jokes, talents…."

Then everything fell silent. Sakajin didn't like this silence. It was too cold, too heavy, too ...contemplating. But she waited for the question, one that she knew would inevitably come. It was also a question she still didn't have an actual answer to. Was she a hostage? A smuggled scientist? God, she needed to be more creative than that.

The bed shifted as Scorch stood up, grabbing his helmet and putting it back on once more. That was odd enough, but what he said next floored her expectations completely.

"You're probably hungry. I'll have someone send food in for ya. You don't have any allergies with human rations? We weren't uh, sure what species you were and-"

"It'll be fine," Sakajin interrupted. She quickly explained (almost habitually), "I'm half-human, I can eat most of what you probably have."

Scorch sputtered for a moment before regaining himself. Somehow, Sakajin felt a bit more at ease with the situation, if only due to the man's inability to speak properly for a moment while he collected his thoughts.

"Well that's good then. I'll have something brought in soon. I'll return sometime later, Sakajin-" God, it was weird to hear her name from someone who wasn't yelling or growling at her. "-Also here, let me get this off you. We...weren't sure if you were a danger to yourself or not when we found you."

A mere minute later, Sakajin's wrist was free. She rubbed it absently as she watched the clone, Scorch, exit the room. It left her with a really, really strange emotion somewhere in her mind. Something between surprise and relief, but there was also something more, something she couldn't quite describe.

But at least she could communicate it with a somewhat hypothetical question: when was the last time she had spoken to someone who wasn't Grievous or Count Dooku?

She had been given some rations to eat, water to drink, and was otherwise equally content and surprised with the level of care she was given. Sakajin felt as though they weren't treating her so much as a prisoner, especially if they didn't know who she was or who she was affiliated with. It made sense that they were opting to treat her well. But regardless of her level of treatment or care, it didn't change the fact that there was absolutely nothing to do to stave off the boredom.

People often thought of confinement as being just another obstacle for a hero to pass, to meditate or to hone physical skills. For more crafty heroes, one might even assume that they'd scour inch by inch to find even the smallest possibility to escape.

But for Sakajin, that romanticism of confinement was hardly true. She knew how to meditate, knew she should have been keeping up with her physical strength, and knew very well that she should take the first chance at breaking out. But did she do any of that?

In a short answer: no, she didn't. Instead, Sakajin was far too engrossed in her own thoughts to bother with much of anything else. Some might call it meditation, but that was far more peaceful and self-accepting than what Sakajin often endured. Meditation meant emptying one's mind, clearing it of all stress and worry. When the woman herself dwelled, it was quite the opposite; stress and worry were the very forefront of her thoughts.

She sat on the bed, knees up to her chest and empty food tray sitting on the small table a few paces away. It had been barely over a full day that she'd been captured, going by logical deduction of how long she had been out after the clones initially got her. A day she'd been absent from the closest thing she'd known as a home.

She should have felt almost grateful to have some separation from the general. Any chance at peace and quiet was often welcome, and most days where she didn't come face-to-face with his anger or aggravation was something of a treat. But she never wanted something like this; being trapped on a base now held by Republic forces. There were simply so many ways that it could go south. She wasn't just an innocent bystander anymore, a non-combat worker who could get the benefit of the doubt when it came to war crimes.

"Congratulations, Sakajin," She whispered to herself, letting out a growl of pent-up annoyance before shifting onto her feet so she could stand and stretch. "First mission and you manage to get yourself captured. What a fine apprentice you turned out to be."

Her stature certainly didn't help at all, metaphorically speaking. She wasn't simply just another battle droid, but considering her closeness to both the computer systems of a main Separatist ship as well as General Grievous, she wouldn't be surprised if-

The door opened up on the other side of the room, quickly catching Sakajin's attentions as she merely continued to stretch her arms up above her head. She quickly recognized the clone as being the first one she met, the one named Scorch.

"I'm surprised you haven't gone mad with boredom," He said, sounding almost casual. The door shut behind him as he stepped inside the room. "Not a lot of people can do without something to keep their minds distracted."

"Guess I'm just really good then," Sakajin murmured, yawning once before sitting back onto the bed once more. "Got plenty of thoughts to keep me occupied for a long time."

That seemed enough to catch the clone's attention. As he slipped off his helmet, Sakajin couldn't help but notice the slight twitch of his lips into an almost charming smile.

"Thoughts?" He said curiously. "What sort of thoughts you got goin' in that head of yours?"

Even Sakajin wasn't too dense to figure there was more in his question than simply asking what she was thinking about; or perhaps she was simply being too careful. Either way, the woman shrugged her shoulders.

"Too many to count," She sighed, not even sure where to begin on what was information she could say versus information she couldn't. Training for being captured and questioned, no matter how kindly, wasn't ever really part of what she learned. "Worry, stress, just...a lot of things."

Regardless, the explanation seemed to sate whatever curiosity that Scorch had. He sat on the bed beside her, slowly enough that Sakajin figured it was for her benefit. But before he could further the conversation with more questions of his own, she figured that it was fair to ask one herself.

"So who are you?" She asked. Sakajin turned her head to look at him more clearly, taking in all the foreign details that lay in his armor alone. If they had significance, she certainly didn't know any of them. Scorch looked about ready to give her some obvious, smart-assed reply, so she quickly added some clarification. "I mean, besides your name. For all I know, you could be running this operation. I figure some is secret, but ...I'm just curious. You never really told me any of that. Isn't that sort of mandatory in these capturing scenarios?"

Whether he was surprised that she asked that or noticed at all, Scorch didn't at all indicate; he merely looked a little curious. But at least he didn't ignore the question, keeping the overall tone of the conversation casual.

Scorch let out a chuckle as he answered. "I only wish I could say I'm in charge here," he started, shifting a little so that he looked a bit more comfortable on the bed. "I'm just a sergeant."

"Sergeant?" Sakajin asked, her confusion genuine. She only understood the vague ranking system of the droid army, which she never even had close experience with. She had only looked over the new ones just built, coming in for a check to ensure they were built correctly.

"It just means I'm the leader of a squad," Scorch quickly explained. "The lowest leadership role a clone can have. I'm in line to rank up though, depending on how well my record looks and-" He stopped after a moment, looking almost sheepish that he had started to rant on about something that, to him at least, probably hardly mattered.

"No," Sakajin insisted, offering him a smile. "Go on? What's the next rank that you can get?"

For a moment the clone merely stared at her incredulously.

"...You're aware that was not the intention of me coming in here at all, right?"

"Absolutely. I figured you were going to ask me exactly who I was, where I'm from, and if I pose a threat to you or not," Sakajin said bluntly, deciding that a charade of stupidity or innocence wasn't exactly going to work in her favor. "If you want to know any of that, you don't have to be so subtle about it."

"Really?" Scorch asked. "That's ...not what I was taught for interrogating prisoners." It was amazing how much a simple look of awe and confusion could make someone look so inexperienced.

And in that one moment, Sakajin couldn't help but feel ...relieved? It was a hard emotion to catch, but it did plenty to comfort the layers of nervousness and worry that had otherwise been plaguing her mind. Here was a clone who was in a similar position to herself. New, relatively inexperienced, unsure how to go about things other than how he's been taught. She almost felt bad that they were on opposite sides, since despite the casual conversation they were still (whether he knew it or not) enemies.

"And I wasn't taught on how to be a good prisoner either," Sakajin pointed out with a shrug. "It seems we're in the same boat."

Scorch was silent for several seconds. At first, Sakajin merely thought that he was merely taking in the information, but eventually she got a little worried that perhaps she had said something she shouldn't have. Did she let on too much? Was he starting to doubt something about her? Sakajin felt the worry start bubbling up in her stomach.

"Something wrong?" She asked carefully with a soft, measured tone.

After a moment, Scorch glanced up to her with a firm expression, enough that it did plenty to jostle her worry even more. She started to feel on edge.

"Actually…." The clone started. Sakajin was ready to jump away, her muscles and mind tense and alert, despite having no weapon; it was merely instinct at that point. But Scorch's next several words did plenty to drain all of that nervousness away. "...I was uh, trying to think of a pun off that, but I got nothing."

It took a moment for it to settle. And when it did, Sakajin couldn't help but laugh; she laughed harder for something so stupid than she had in a long time, longer than she could remember. Everything she had expected and anticipated from being captured, at least at that point, had been entirely turned on its head.

She tried not to make too obvious when she smiled and made a gesture with her hand. "Oh well," She said, "I mean, I guess it's all water under the bridge now."

"That was horrible," Scorch said, but he didn't seem to hide the amusement and laughter that seemed to simmer just beneath his words.

"At least I had something."

The laughter from both died down a few moments later, leaving them in a silence once more. Sakajin wasn't sure where the conversation would go from there, and she was hesitant to think about it. There was no getting out of the inevitable, the moment that the clone decided to ask for it himself.

Before Sakajin could try opening her mouth, maybe in hopes to steer the conversation in her own way, the clone had beat her to it. But his question, despite the fact that she'd told him otherwise, was not what she had expected.

"What species are you?" He asked, obviously trying to be delicate despite the heavy possibility of sounding outright offensive. Some took the question quite sensitively, but Sakajin? She...was rather neutral.

"A hybrid," She murmured. It had been a long time since anyone had even asked her that. "Human and Tarael."

"I've...never heard of them before," Scorch admitted, and he sounded rather embarrassed. "Had to learn about a lot of cultures as part of early training, but the Tarael are unfamiliar to me. Small population?"

"Isolated, actually," the woman corrected gently, taking a little bit away from the man's obvious nervousness. "I think they only recently joined with the Republic…..sometime ago. I'm not sure."

"Not sure?" The question sounded surprised.

"Well, I haven't seen any of my homeworld since I was a child." That much information seemed plenty safe to give, in all honesty. Few people even seemed to know who the Tarael are. "I lived on Coruscant for more of my life. Exposure to any history or culture is rather minimal, unfortunately."

Scorch hummed in some vague interest. "Your mother was a human?"

"My father was. I don't know much about how my parents met. Just happen to be in the right place at the right time, I suppose." it was a little more of a lie, but only vaguely. "From what I heard, they loved one another very much despite the species difference-the least I do know about the Tarael is that they are very wary with other races."

Sakajin almost felt as though the clone was about to dig deeper still into her past, perhaps in hopes to learn more of her identity. But he surprised her yet again with a shift in topic.

"...You know, some people say they feel sorry for us," The man glanced over to Sakajin. She caught his gaze carefully, and noticed a sense of softness in his eyes. It wasn't the look of a man who was interrogating her. "We don't have parents. Every clone grows up with brothers, and that's all the family we've ever really known."

Sakajin suspected at least that he was trying to connect with her; and it honestly worked. She did feel some sense of similarity with the clone sitting beside her, despite all the differences in their lives and the sides they technically fought for. She hadn't felt so comfortable talking to someone else in a long time; it was hilarious and sad all at the same time.

But it was nice. Sakajin felt a smile on her lips, and she glanced gently at the man next to her.

"Tell me more."

They spoke for some time more, though for however long, Sakajin lost track of time. They flipped from topic to topic, never delving all that deep so that Sakajin felt uncomfortable or that she gave anything away to suggest she wasn't some innocent hostage taken on the base. Instead they spoke of past experiences, thoughts, even a little bit of their own childhoods (which turned out, obviously, to be entirely different from one another). But for the first time in a long time, Sakajin felt genuinely at-ease in talking to someone else.

Scorch didn't threaten her, didn't push her, didn't do anything to make the woman feel like she was anything but another person having a simple conversation. She knew her guard was down, well below what it should have been, and he could have taken advantage of it at any time. But...he didn't.

At first, Sakajin simply thought it was a coincidence. But after several aversions of deeper inquiry, she began to realize that it was on purpose. He was avoiding it.

There was a beep from the clone's comlink. He glanced at it after a moment, then shifted his eyes to Sakajin.

"It seems we'll have to continue the conversation later," He murmured, getting off the bed and pulling his helmet back on over his face, hiding his eyes behind the black, expressionless visor. "I'll have someone send dinner in soon."

Sakajin stared at him for a short while, as if trying to figure out what kind of game he was playing at. It just didn't make sense; he had every opportunity to start pulling out information from her, but he didn't take a single one. It was outright confusing.

"You never asked me if-"

"Not yet," Scorch interrupted her, almost as if he knew she was going to ask it. He looked a bit pressed for words for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. "...I figure it would be easier for you to make your own decision on things first." A pause. "Er. I mean if you wanted to lie or tell the truth."

"Wait, you mean-"

"We assumed you weren't neutral the moment we captured you," Scorch explained. "...We found records with your DNA signature on the base. Your name is on a couple of documents we've found and...you have their emblem on your clothes." Oh, shit.

It made Sakajin's heart sink, despite knowing very well that it was bound to happen at some point. She just wanted to feel some satisfaction that the information had been kept at bay for as long as she could hold off. At least it wasn't entirely her fault. But her clothes? Now that was pretty embarrassing. She completely forgot about them, something so obvious and simple as simply having the emblem of General Grievous neatly sewn into the back of her short cloak.

At least it got one thing out of the way. One less hard question that he needed to ask her.

"So you've been playing me?" Sakajin asked, suddenly feeling defensive of herself and unsure of the extent to which they knew of her. "Why...did you…." She sighed, trying (and failing) to get a feel of his intentions. "You could have kept that restraint on my wrist, you know. You didn't have to be nice to me."

For another moment, Scorch is silent. Contemplative.

"We wanted to see if you'd be a danger to others under the pretense that you could, well, escape. We know you've worked for the Seppies, but ...I have the feeling you're not combat. Or at least, you've never seen combat yet."

Despite herself, Sakajin glanced down to her lap. That seemed to be enough of an answer

"...You feel like a good person, Sakajin," Scorch continued. It hurt to hear her name like that; it almost reminded her of how a parent might say it. "You seem to know that too. I don't figure you joined them by choice, right?"

Sakajin continued to stare down at her lap. She felt…embarrassed? Afraid? It was completely indescribable, but he was hitting home like a knife to the heart with every word he spoke.

"...You could almost say that," She whispered. She had joined the Separatists very much by choice, but under circumstances that made it the only option she could logically choose. "Don't label me as entirely innocent either. I'm still on the other side regardless of why I joined it."

For Sakajin, she had never needed to consider the lives involved. If only she could have remained that way; blissfully neutral, the ability to point a finger and say 'hey, it isn't my fault, I was only following orders! I wasn't directly hurting anyone!'.

Scorch paused, letting her words sink before speaking himself. "We...well, I hoped that you'd be willing to help us," He said carefully. "It isn't too late to do what's right."

Only then did Sakajin lift her head to look at him, expression calm, but careful.

"And how might I do that?"

She didn't particularly like the way the conversation was starting to go. It made her head hurt too much, too many thoughts and worries bubbling back to the forefront of her mind that played between making an easy choice, or being loyal and ignorant.

Scorch ignored a faster, higher-pitched beeping that was coming from his wrist comlink.

"Joining us instead?" Asked as if it was something as simple as deciding what to eat. As if it was so simple.

Sakajin's eyes narrowed and she asked in turn, "What if it isn't that easy?"

She couldn't just up and switch sides. Everything, every part of her life since childhood had been built upon being part of the Separatists, whether she was consciously aware of it or not. It went deeper than simply joining them for convenience.

It was too much to think about. Too much to worry about, too much to-

"Hey," Scorch's sharp, firm tone interrupted Sakajin's thoughts before they had enough time to start festering. "I never said you had to make the decision now. Just…" He sighed, tapping at his wrist comlink so that the beeping stopped. "...Just take time to think about it. It's why I didn't bring anything up in the first place yet."

"You're a terrible interrogator."

"I might be," the clone's voice was gentle, but firm. "-but I don't think it's right to lock up someone who deserves a second chance."

When Sakajin said nothing in return, he stepped out of the room. The sound of his echoing footsteps and her swirling thoughts were the only company left. She didn't even know where to begin thinking about herself and her situation.

Join the Republic?

The choice sounded promising in itself; it could allow her a sense of freedom from what she had been all but too used to beneath both Dooku and Grievous. A chance to make a choice with the grace of hindsight and humility of adulthood.

But just as she had told Scorch, the choice wasn't as simple as one might assume.

Sakajin knew she would be leaving the servitude of one side to merely join it in another.