The two gargoyles waited without moving or making a sound, every nerve tingling with anticipation. The object of their carefully thought-out planning was due to appear every moment, and tension mounted high, so when Steelclaw felt a hand on his shoulder, he jumped and turned around lightning-quick.

"It's only me," he heard a familiar, soothing whisper.

"Anne!" he exhaled in relief. "You didn't have to come."

"You are taking a terrible risk," she said, "I don't want to leave you alone." It went without saying, of course, that she was taking an immense risk as well, and he pressed her hand in thanks.

"Pay attention!" hissed Korian. "They are coming!"

And indeed, the doors opened and a procession walked out - seven men, flanked by two others. The gargoyles rushed forward, the younger drawing out his gun. Steely his claws might be, but he didn't rely on them alone during battle.

And then, gunshots filled the still night air, and Steelclaw heard his uncle's gasp of pain - and then he lost his head, and everything turned into chaos. There was screaming, and hurried footsteps, and more gunshots, and next thing he knew, the prisoners were ushered into the police car, and it revved and was gone.

Steelclaw roared with rage and frustration, but then he heard Korian's choked voice calling him. His uncle was kneeling, and for one horrible moment Steelclaw thought he was badly injured. But then he noticed that Korian was supporting someone else, someone who was lying limp and still.

"No," whispered Steelclaw in horror, dropping to his knees as well, "no..."

Her eyes found his, and for a moment it seemed she was about to say something, but she never did. Her lips remained slightly parted as her eyes grew glassy, empty spheres reflecting the moon they could no longer see.

Stupefied, aware of nothing, he remained by Anne, holding her hand, and was only dimly aware of the voice of Korian, who had one hand on his shoulder.

"Let me look at you, lad. You're hurt bad."

Only then did Steelclaw realize that the blood covering his hands was not only hers, but also his own. And then pain came, but not for long, because he sank into a black pit of unconcsiousness, and his last coherent thought was that he hoped he was dying.

... When he woke, he was back at his clan's home, and his wounds were neatly bandaged. Hudson was sitting by his bed, and as soon as he stirred, the old gargoyle rushed to his side. His head felt very sore, and so was his right shoulder and wing, through which a bullet had apparently come right through.

"Lie still, lad," said Hudson in a concerned voice, "dawn is only a short while from now, it will heal you."

"Did Korian get back alright?" Steelclaw asked anxiously.

"Yes, he was the one who brought you here. He is unhurt. You were both very lucky, lad."

And though no reproach was meant in those words, Steelclaw turned away, and hot tears of grief and guilt filled his eyes. Hudson looked away pointedly, his heart heavier than it has been in years. He felt very sorry for this young one, who had learned, much like his mother before him, that smart plans might backfire, causing the loss of innocent lives.

"Take it easy, lad," he advised, squeezing Steelclaw's good shoulder with surprising strength, "dawn will come soon."

Like never in his life, Steelclaw longed for the dawn. He wanted to sink into nothingness - to do, feel, and be nothing. He wished he would enter a spell of enchanted sleep like his father once did, a thousand-year long sleep as an unmoving statue, while the world around him crumbles, burns and rises from the ashes again. Yet he felt that even ten centuries wouldn't be enough to erase his burning shame.

Dawn brought no relief. When he woke again at sunset, Brooklyn came to him, and his words were worse than the hottest outburst of fury or the most bitter accusations.

"Anne's mother is here, Steelclaw. She wants to see you."

He braced himself for a meeting with the one who must consider him as the worst scum that ever walked upon the earth, but instead found himself face to face with a little gentle-looking woman with greying hair and a sad smile. He felt as though a dagger was thrust through his heart; Elisa's skin was darker than Anne's had been and her eyes were black, not blue, but the delicate features were the same, and he knew this is how Anne would have looked if she had been given the chance to live life, to work, bear children, and grow old.

He wanted to say something, anything, but the words were stuck in his throat. Elisa approached him, and looked as though she knew him. She lifted her hand, and her fingers touched his face.

"If I could bring Anne back by giving up my own life, I would," Steelclaw said finally, yet he could hardly think of a time his words had less meaning.

"Goliath lives on in you," Elisa said almost dreamily, and lowered her hand, yet continued to stare at him as if mesmerized.

"I didn't want this to happen, I told her she didn't have to be there," words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, "I know now my plan was foolish, I placed vengeance above the safety of those I should have protected... it was all my fault..."

He broke down and sobbed, unable to say more. Elisa stared at him, feeling oddly numb. She had just lost a daughter, yet here she was, in the position of comforter, soothing grief and assuaging guilt. Like this young one, in their home Jason collapsed and wept with bitter regret for not telling her all he knew while there was still time to stop the youthful foolish schemes. And similarly to what she did then, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and said:

"It wasn't your fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. I shouldn't have abandoned my friends, I should have continued being involved with the clan, I should have done everything in my power to promote the safety of your kin. If I had continued along this path thirty years ago, the Stonehammers might not have existed at all, and you might still have had both your parents."

He looked at her, not quite understanding. "Why did you cut contact with us?" he asked.

"Because of your father," she said simply.

"Why?" Steelclaw continued inquiring, mostly to take his mind off his own enormous guilt, even for a moment. "Did my father do anything to offend you?"

"No," sighed Elisa, "he was always a good, true friend. I thought he cared for me, and he did - but it was your mother he loved, and once this became clear to me, I felt I can no longer remain in touch."

Steelclaw didn't reply, but sat listening intently, and an understanding dawned upon him.

"When Jason and I married, we thought it would be better for everyone if we didn't keep in touch with the clan," she smiled slightly, a smile that broke his heart, "it is obvious there are some things from which you cannot escape."

"If only I didn't..." Steelclaw started again, shaking his head, but she hushed him:

"You never meant for it to happen. All along, it was a tragic mistake. The men who were responsible for the transfer of the prisoners work in our department, they knew Anne, and they are devastated by what had come to pass. They shot in self-defense. No one meant to harm Anne, it just... happened."

She spoke so calmly it sent shivers down his spine. Unaware of this, Elisa continued. "One of the men who had been arrested, the supposed leader of the Stonehammers, managed to escape, but it is hoped he will be located before long."

Steeclaw bowed his head. This was the final blow - his own folly led to his enemy's escape. Never before had he felt so childish, so immature, so utterly worthless, so terribly guilty.

"I must go back now," Elisa said, "for the time being, I don't feel easy leaving my husband alone for long. I'll just tell you this: Anne was the light of our lives. Make sure she didn't die in vain."

He raised his eyes to her. Intense suffering and a mute question could be read in them. "How do I do that?" he asked.

"By being your father's son," Elisa said, squeezed his hand, and walked out.