Only a few hours ago, Oriliagh had been with Safeke and Yemi, but she knew while only a few hours had passed for her, years had passed for her brother and the young boy they had decided to raise as their own.

As soon as Yemi was taken from earth, Safeke set his plan into action. It wasn't easy. Luckily Safeke was able to catch Yemi off guard, gaining his trust with Serpantha's full knowledge about the boy from everything he had observed, and wiping his memory proved to be the easiest part. Once that was done, he handed Yemi into Oriliagh's care, and met with his son and nephew in the white hole. He created the perfect distraction: Earth. What could be better than having Serpantha see his children die? Humans were so easy to manipulate that it hardly seemed like a task at all to get them to turn against Volüsa. Yes, Earth and dealing with his unwanted family was the easy part. It was raising Yemi that had to be done perfectly. Even Safeke's stolen power was second to Yemi's, although the power they had wasn't far apart, Yemi would certainly have the advantage, and Safeke couldn't allow that – not after all he had worked for. Once his family was dealt with, all he had to do was wait. In less than a century, every Witch on Orin Fen was dead. And while he had not expected it, it was a rather pleasant surprise to see Owlola take her own life.

And when Orin Fen only consisted of animals, plants and broken stone, Oriliagh and Safeke were free to return. Yemi's power scared Safeke – that was no secret – so he couldn't risk anything, especially his old memories returning. He could never allow anything to trigger them to come flooding back. Oriliagh was reluctant to give Yemi a new name, but Safeke didn't care; she was reluctant to do many things and it never stopped him before, nor did it cause her to lose her affections for him. Safeke chose to name him Detriar, partly after the battle of Detrimetus, in which he had Serpantha kill Tiargan. Detrimetus literally translated into 'wrong-blood', and in the language of Orin Fen 'ar' means not, and is added to the end of words to invert their meaning. Every time Safeke said 'my Detriar', it would be translated as 'not my blood'. Safeke quite enjoyed his own joke. As cruel as Oriliagh found it, she kept quiet on the matter and tolerated her brother's renaming of the child. She had bigger problems than his ill-spirited games.

Despite knowing the child wasn't hers, Orilaigh loved Yemi like one of her own. He was perfect. Even Safeke was a good father to him, and he seemed genuinely happy for the first time in so long. But as much as Oriliagh wished for it, Safeke never forgot his goal – then again, how could he? They were the only three people on the vast planet on Orin Fen. It was hard to forget anything with the constant reminder of a dead world.

Yemi was now seven years old. Oriliagh drew the large curtains, closing off the balcony of his room, to black out the harsh red light of the setting sun. They matched what Yemi usually chose to wear: an orange fabric with stitched patterns of gold embroidery, nothing too fancy but certainly a rich silk material. Oriliagh stroked his short tightly curled hair, kissed him goodnight and said, 'Goodnight, Detriar, I love you.'

'I love you too, L'hara.' He replied, curling up in his sheets.

Oriliagh left the room to let him sleep. L'hara. Mother. It felt so wrong for him to call her that. She didn't care if his blood wasn't hers, but he wasn't an adopted child for them to love. They had kidnapped him when he was two, claiming he was their own. Yemi never thought twice about it or questioned anything. He was darker than his mother and father, his mother's cinnamon skin being far too pale compared to him, and his father's honey skin tone was even paler. But with no one else around for comparison it never really crossed his mind. Nor did the fact his eyes were different. His eyes matched the same mahogany shade that both his parents had, but his eyes were surrounded by white, not black, and he would spend hours looking at his own eyes and wondering why his had a layer of white skin over them. No matter how many times it had been explained to him that some people were born with black eyes and some with white, he still longed for his parent's eyes. There was something so beautiful about the way the spell colours danced around in the blackness, looking like the night sky, something he would only see as a treat from his father, who would spend hours mapping the constellations, planets and stars, and Yemi tried to memorise it all. Oriliagh always told him his eyes must be white because he had part of the god of life, Attgar, inside him, and would say that shows the true measure of his power. His mother's words always reassured him he was capable of what his father wanted for him – to bring life back to Orin Fen. He was destined to, he knew it, and while no story about any god or goddess said anything about the return of Attgar, his father insisted part of Attgar had to be inside Yemi, and Yemi was capable of giving life.

It still didn't seem right to Yemi. He knew every story about the gods, being told the stories since he was a baby, and it didn't seem possible. Couldn't his magic just be powerful, with no divine purpose? No matter what the cause, Yemi would help his father, and reclaim what they had lost. But there were tasks to do first. His father had only brushed over them when explaining but Yemi knew it went much deeper than his father let on. He knew there were bad people from Orin Fen that had caused its destruction and unless stopped they would only make everything worse – or even try to harm his mother and father. Yemi knew there names, what they looked like and the patterns of their magic, and he knew they had to be killed. A fair punishment, his father always told him, but it seemed wrong to Yemi, even if it was the only thing to do. When Yemi said that if they killed they would be just as bad as them, his father always told him that wasn't how it works, that retaliation or revenge isn't evil and shouldn't count as murder. It still didn't seem right.

But Yemi loved his mother and father, and this is what they wanted for him, and what they knew was best, so who was he to question it? After all, the merciful thinking that revenge killing is bad is what led the others astray and caused them to kill life on Orin Fen. Having a war to fight and losing the few is better than having peace and damning a species, innocent people, children, and a planet. And anyone who can cause their own children's deaths and suffering couldn't be that worthy of life anyway.

Oriliagh tried to push all thoughts of the future away, forcing herself to believe they didn't matter, and her job was to keep her son, Detriar, happy. But the house couldn't help but feel empty as Oriliagh descended the staircase. Wanting some fresh air, she decided to cut through the house, taking the stairwell that led outside to a garden surrounded by the four sections of the house. All the fires along the side of the stone walls were lit, showing the path to outsiders – it wasn't even dark yet, but the fires were almost always lit nowadays, after all, as the only people on Orin Fen they could use all the resources they wanted.

Oriliagh took her time walking through the garden, admiring the stonework of the building she grew up in and the flowers that grew perfectly arranged in the grass that grew through the sandy soil. Her and her brothers would always try to climb the walls, using the engraved patterns as grips – her parents had allowed it, even if it was considered inappropriate for a girl to do such activities. It only helped her build the muscle she needed to become the good dancer she was in her youth. Before he was taken away, Safeke and Oriliagh would dance together, and whenever Safeke could he would make time to dance with her. Without a war going on, and with only Yemi to look after, they could do it every day. Sometimes seriously, sometimes they would just dance like they did as children – more spinning and running than actual dancing.

Eventually, Oriliagh made her way back to Safeke, who was waiting for her in the dinning hall with a plate of fruit, and two full glasses of wine. Although Oriliagh couldn't help but smile, she wished he had picked another room; this one always made her feel even lonelier. The large oval table was surrounded by twenty chairs, it was meant for a family.

Oriliagh sat down, picked up her glass, and raised it as Safeke did the same, and they both took a drink in perfect synchronization. The moment was perfect.

'I need to talk to you,' Safeke said, changing the mood all too quickly. 'I was only fooling with her head but she ended up making the deal with me that required me to bring you back to life.'

Oriliagh half-dropped, half-placed her glass back on the table. 'The girl Serpantha's been so invested in?'

'Yes, the one who looks more like a man than a woman.'

'What did she offer you in return?' Oriliagh asked cautiously. This wasn't part of the plan.

'Not only her life, but Rachel and Venibilles too.'

Oriliagh didn't speak. She wanted to drink or eat to fill the silence, but her stomach was in knots. She forced herself to relax and finally asked, 'What would you want with them?'

Safeke chewed on a deep purple fruit like a large grape as he said, 'I'm not sure yet. Serpantha seems invested in this Heiki girl and he obviously cares about Venibilles, and I'm not sure about Rachel. I'll think more about it when I confront them.'

'You blame far too much on Serpantha,' Oriliagh replied. 'all he ever looked for as a child was approval – how long could he keep looking for it before he gave up? You made it very clear that you never wanted him to rule – you could have subtly married Áraliná to someone and have those two rule before he could, but you were obvious about it. You told him you didn't want him to rule. You always shunned him as if he was a disappointment.'

'He is a disappointment,' Safeke's voice rose. 'all he ever brought was shame. First Tiargan then that awful Say'ban girl.'

'But you never had to be cruel about it.' Oriliagh didn't want to argue any further or hear her child insulted further, so went back to the original subject. 'So what am I supposed to do?'

'Go to Earth to where they are.'

'What about Detriar?'

'I'm perfectly capable of raising a child,' Safeke said. 'I will miss you, but you lure them to where I want them to go and we shall meet there.'

'No.' Oriliagh said instinctively.

'We don't have a choice.'

'All because you wanted to mess with some little girl's head?' Oriliagh grew angry. 'I'm not going. I'm not leaving you. What about our son? What about—'

Safeke reached out and gently grabbed her hands. 'I don't like it anymore than you, Oriliagh, but it will only be a few hours for you, a few days maximum.'

'No!' Oriliagh pushed him away, spilling the wine on the table.

'This isn't about being apart at all, is it?' Safeke paused. 'You don't want to do this.'

Oriliagh tried to stop any tears falling down her cheeks. 'I love my children, I always have and I always will. Every one of them.'

'Everyone dies, Oriliagh, we have to accept it,' Safeke said weakly.

'I know,' Oriliagh replied bitterly. 'You made that clear when you named our first child Serpantha.'

'It's just a name.'

'A name that comes from Sepantha, the Goddess of death. I know out children have always been doomed from the start but you couldn't have let me try to forget. You made sure I remembered by giving him that name.'

'Then grateful it will all be over soon.'

'I just think Serpantha has been through enough,' Oriliagh said with defeat. 'I'd rather do this the nicer way.'

'Really?' Safeke then added cuttingly, 'I'd rather you didn't have a son with another man and then name him after that man and expect me to live with it.'

Oriliagh stood up and slammed her hands on the table and said firmly, 'I would rather you didn't force me to have another child almost immediately afterward and then leave me.'

Safeke calmly stood up and put his hands on is sister's waist. 'We can have a new start. I know what I'm doing and when this is all over we can have each other and be happy, you know that. We only need each other, right?'

Oriliagh restrained emotion. 'It doesn't mean we can't care about other people too.'

'Like your red-haired lover?' Safeke spat.

'I meant out children!' Oriliagh retaliated, matching his tone.

'No, I understand,' Safeke continued. 'I've never even thought about another woman except you and you…you got to grow up normally. You courted and stayed out for the night with people you barely knew.' Safeke released her waist and fell back into his chair. 'What's a messed up boy locked in a room compared to what other men could have offered?'

'Safeke if any other man mattered to me I would have shunned you long ago. Remember when father found out I had spoken to you? He asked me why I couldn't just forget you and I told him it was him I would rather forget. I don't regret that, and I don't regret what we did. I would have liked parents and siblings but some things aren't meant to be. You matter more to me than them.'

'Then why isn't it the same with Serpantha or Larpskendya?'

'I love them the same amount that I love you, just in a different way. I love all my children. I will miss them, but I'm asking you to be kind. You were kind to Áraliná when she passed.'

Safeke ran his fingers through the back of his hair and leaned back on his hair. 'She never wronged me. I know I didn't treat her how I should have – I wanted to give her one last happy thought in her life. But what's done is done; things are already set into action.'

'Serpantha wouldn't have been so rebellious if you had treated Áraliná better,' said Oriliagh, no longer caring to prevent argument. 'perhaps if you hadn't have insisted she be so perfect. I know you just wanted her to be able to find a man for her to rule with but you pushed too far. From since she was a child she hated herself. Maybe if Serpantha hadn't caught her throwing up water – water! – sometimes just to try and fit into the clothes you had made for her, or maybe if she wasn't glad to be made so ill that she couldn't eat let alone keep anything down, and in her last few days of life if Serpantha hadn't have found her in a dress she had as a child he wouldn't resent you so much. Or maybe if you didn't throw him into the glass wine cabinet for disagreeing with you and then yell at him for spilling the drink. Or if you never killed anyone he loved!'

Oriliagh stopped, breathing heavily. Not once through her speech had Safeke moved or tried to interrupt her, he was entirely calm. Every second that passed Oriliagh could hear her own breath and daren't move or speak.

Finally, Safeke said, with only a hint of melancholy in his voice, 'I know. I want to do better with Detriar and any children we may have after him. But we have to finish this. It'll all be over soon, I promise, and you have the option to spend years with your children if you wanted to it wouldn't affect me.'

'No. It would be harder to cope with if I spent more time with them. Let's just get this over with.'

Oriliagh reached her hand out gently for Safeke to take, and she brought him to his feet. Grasping his hand, she ran out of the room, forcing him to follow, smiling the entire time.

She took him outside, as the stars were just becoming visible, and the fires began to shine brighter. Wrapping her hands around his waist, she said, 'If I have to be apart from you, even for a matter of hours, and if you have to be apart from me for so long I want a proper goodbye.' She pressed up against him, and whispered playfully, 'dance with me.'