Disclaimer: I don't own this story, its contents, characters, etc. Lynne Ewing does.

Author's Note: Yay! I update! Oh, and special thanks to Cheyenne, who has not only inspired me to update, but has given me an awesome idea. I'll try and use your idea next chapter! Thanks, also to Ceana, Moira, and Nym, and everyone else who has reviewed. Your thoughts are appreciated! But onto the story….

The incessant buzzing in Castrata's head was bugging her more than a little. She couldn't remember anything between talking with 'Ethan' about her names, and finding herself lying, face down, on the floor of her bedroom. She awoke feeling extremely nauseated.

She had walked down the stairs to find her father in a hot conversation with Tymmie. She caught only, "It's like an illusion—a mirror!" Before they saw her and stopped talking abruptly.

"How are you feeling?" Dad and Tymmie had asked, almost simultaneously. Enough so to make her laugh.

After Tymmie had left and she had forced down some crackers she had felt almost normal. Now, several hours later, after a tiring school day, she found herself feeling fine, except for that low drone in her mind.

The drone seemed to be increasing in volume and intensity as time wore on. She considered talking to her father about it—but he was busy with 'Ethan'.

Castrata rubbed her eyes tiredly, as the pounding seemed to build and build. The pressure behind her eyelids was unavoidable and uncontrollable.

Come to me…

Let go…

Castrata shook her head. Was she going mad? These voices in her mind, whispering… what was happening to her?

An outsider, at this point, would have seen a blonde girl with a pale face under her California tan. The girl shook uncontrollably, a fearsome look passing over her perfect features. If they had been close enough to see her eyes, they would have seen an icy, pale, blue replace her deep blue eyes. The girl stopped shaking, and stood up. A satisfied smirk settled onto her perfect features, and her eyes were chilling to behold.

The outsider would have backed away.

Castrata shook her blonde hair from her face and peered into the mirror, carefully examining her features. She swayed down the stairs, and entered her father's room without knocking.

She didn't even bother to grab a tray of food; she simply sashayed inside and sat down.

Her father and Ethan both turned to look towards her. "How nice of you to join us," Ethan purred.

"Castrata, what are you doing here?" Her father demanded. "I apologize for my daughter's behavior," he said to Ethan.

"You needn't." Castrata said.

"What?"

"You needn't apologize for me," Castrata said, "he wanted me here."

Her father looked to Ethan for confirmation. Ethan's perfect features looked surprised for the barest of moments, before he carefully examined Castrata's face, and then nodded.

Stanton's eyes flicked from Ethan to Castrata and back, as if solving a puzzle, just after finding the missing piece.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" Dad asked quietly, and barely waited for Ethan's nod, before leaving the room.

Castrata and Ethan sat in the room for a moment, just eying each other. Quite abruptly, Ethan stood and strode over to where she was sitting. Castrata stood up to meet him.

They simply stood, inches apart, staring at each other. Before Castrata could move, or think, Ethan's mouth was on hers.

If Castrata had been able to think, she would have connected the fact that she had been hearing voices around the same time she had met Ethan. She would have considered her strange behavior when she was around him. And she certainly would have realized that his kissing was very different from Tymmie's.

When Castrata had kissed Tymmie, it had been because she wanted to. Really wanted to. It had been a matter of choice. With Ethan, there was no choosing. There was only submission.

His mouth was urgent as it claimed hers, his body pressing against hers. Castrata's head spun as they collapsed on the sofa. She gradually began regaining the slight amount of her that was still Castrata, and as Ethan continued kissing her, she slowly began coming back to life.

She felt rather like a dummy—Ethan was kissing her—as she lay beneath him, unresponsive. He didn't seem to care.

As Castrata began to regain the use of her mind, she realized that she didn't really like Ethan's kisses, let alone the person that was doing the kissing. She attempted to shove him off.

The door burst open, and her father and Tymmie stepped into the room. After making sure to kiss Castrata, long and hard—even as she attempted to shove him away—Ethan turned to Stanton and Tymmie.

"Now, now. We can't have this. Surely you respect my choice, Stanton?"

Stanton's face paled. "You can't have her."

Ethan smiled slightly. "Oh, I think I can."

"It's customary to ask the lady in question," Tymmie said, intervening. No one but Castrata saw the hurt look on his face, as his eyes danced between Castrata and Ethan.

Ethan sneered. "Maybe it once was. I think I'm quite above the old rules. They were rather restrictive, weren't they, Stanton?"

Stanton's face paled even more, if that was possible. "Just ask her."

Ethan smiled. "Fine. If you insist." Ethan turned to Castrata, and spoke in a string of words that Castrata, in her dazed state, belatedly recognized were Latin, and a question of some sort.

"Pardon?" She said, tiredly, leaning against the couch for support.

Her father took in her position and swiftly jumped in, "I'm not sure this is the time for this, Ethan. Castrata's worn out; she needs rest."

Ethan's eyes narrowed momentarily. "Fine. But let me ask the question first—she can answer later."

Dad nodded reluctantly.

"In English, please." Castrata said.

Ethan smiled. When he spoke, it was not in English, as she'd requested—it was still Latin, but she understood it. "Your task is to answer this riddle—According to Ancient Myth, in the sands of time, what is the darkness of watery Chaos?"

"That's not a riddle."

"It's a question."

"And why does it matter if I answer it?"

Ethan looked her in the eye. "If you answer it, you'll live, and be asked the true question. If you don't—you'll join me for all time." And he disappeared in a haze of shadow.

Castrata exchanged looks with her father and Tymmie. "What was that about?"

Neither would answer. Finally, her father said, "Make sure you answer the question. Tymmie and I are bound not to tell you or help you—you have to answer this on your own."

Castrata frowned slightly.

"You should go to bed," Her father said, softly. "He'll want an answer this time tomorrow night—you have that long to find an answer."

"And if I don't?" Castrata challenged.

"Then you are bound to him for all time." Her father said, softly. Worry filled his piercing blue eyes. He took Castrata in, and then glanced at Tymmie. "I'm going outside for a bit," he said, and made a quick exit.

That left Tymmie, Castrata, and a long, unwavering silence.

"Did you…?" Tymmie asked, softly, his eyes filled with hurt, "Are you…? Did you…?"

"No." Castrata said, quickly. "It wasn't like that."

The silence returned.

"Well—" Tymmie started, as Castrata said,

"I—"

"Sorry," they both said, in unison

"Well," Tymmie began again, "I… I'll just… if you don't…" and he turned to leave.

Without quite thinking about it, Castrata intercepted him, and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He relaxed against her, the tension draining from his body.

"Good night." Castrata whispered.

Tymmie smiled, and it lit up his eyes. "Good night."

Castrata went up to her room, and lay awake for what seemed like forever, listening to her father talking quietly, and pondering the riddle that would change her life.