I had gotten the hang of skipping over unimportant parts of the flashback, like I do now. It's the same room, but the lighting's more different. Mid-afternoon, I'd say.

Three men sit at the table. Poppa and the commander sit at one end, and Simon at the other. Kira wanders around the circular room, looking at it with great interest.

"On what terms are you here for?" Poppa asks slowly.

"To, ah, provide information," Simon says, leaning his elbows on the table. "You see, I have some facts that you would find very useful. In regards to your daughter, especially."

"Callie is dead," Poppa says dully. "She is no use to you."

"She isn't dead, Alex," Simon corrects quietly. Poppa flinches at Simon using Poppa's first name. "I saved her."

"You-ah. The teleporter. Of course. You wouldn't let your prize die, now would you?" Poppa's voice is bitter.

"I wouldn't let your daughter die, no. I have a bit of compassion, you know."

"Compassion," the commander snorts. "Like enslaving innocents to fight a war over a teenage girl."

"Over another dimension," Simon says. "The teenage girl was necessary, though."

"My daughter is not an object," Poppa growls. "Not a pawn in your violent game."

"No, but a pawn in yours. How come you never told her about her power? How come I had to, Alexander?"

"That deception was necessary," my father says in a tight voice. "No one was to find out. To keep the portal closed on this side. To prevent this-this hell that you've created."

"Which is why you trusted your closest friend, who in turn, told his lover," Simon says with a smirk.

"Is that how you found out?" Poppa whispers.

"I overheard that conversation. No one was to find out, Alex? I think not."

"Alex, Alex, he's manipulating you," the commander whispers. "Trying to get you to tell more than recommended."

Poppa sits up straighter. "Where is Callie?" he says coldly. "And James?"

"James is in the Marix morgue," Simon says sadly. "I tried to save him too, but an accident outside of my control wound up in him getting shot and dying in Callie's arms."

Poppa twitches. "And my daughter? She is still in this dimension, correct?"

"Correct, though not on this planet," Simon says. "Instead of going to Tura, she wound up on Earth."

Simon presses his hands against the table. "I do have a negotiation, though. Provide me with the fuel to get to Earth, and I will bring your daughter back. Allow me to actually open up the rift, and I will surrender. I'll even put my troops back in their homes. If not..." He smiles grimly. "Well, I daresay that you already know the consequences."

Poppa stands up abruptly. "Thomas, we need to discuss these terms," he says.

"Of course," the commander says.

Poppa opens a thin metal door and steps into the hallway. In this hallway, several other doors stand open, showing various meeting rooms, a kitchen, and a lounge.

"I am willing to agree to these terms," Poppa says quietly once the door slams shut behind him.

The commander stares at him. "You're joking."

"I rarely joke, commander, and certainly not when my daughter's-and the rest of the Azeran's-lives are in danger. I am willing to accept these terms, Thomas."

"Simon is a mad man!" the commander hisses. "He could have some tricks up his sleeves."

"Every other negotiation has been the same. Give him Callie, or he'll give us hell. Notice how-"

"How he had Callie, and now he's attacking Axedence?" the commander finishes for him.

"Callie escaped from him, apparently. Simon has always stuck to his word-"

"Because we never gave him what he wanted. Give him Callie, or give us hell. You said so yourself. And every time, he gave us hell."

"True," Poppa admits.

"But yet, you want to give up your daughter to-"

"To save billions of Azerans, not mention all those poor folk that are hypnotized? No, I don't want to. But sometimes, in war, sacrifices have to be made."

I want to scream. My father, giving me over, when he kept me in the dark for my entire life just to keep me safe? My father, who chose a war over losing his daughter?

"Listen to yourself, man! What happened to the Keeper who convinced the government that the rift must be protected at all costs, even if that meant war?"

"That Keeper's daughter ended up on a foreign planet, and could very easily die," Poppa says wearily.

The commander, possibly sensing defeat, relents. "Okay. Fine. Be on your own head about it."

Poppa just nods at him and goes back into the circular room.

"Well?" Simon says a little smugly.

"I accept your terms," Poppa says, his eyes downcast. "But I want her back safe and unharmed, do you understand?"

"Of course," Simon says.

"I will arrange for your ship to be fueled up today so you can leave tomorrow," Poppa adds.

"That would be wonderful. Thank you."

Simon stands up and leaves. Kira follows him, after shooting a confused glance at the two Keepers. The commander raises his eyebrows at that, but Poppa's too woeful to notice.

"May the Elder Gods damn me for sacrificing my own child," Poppa mutters.

My eyes fly open, tears running down my face. My father, a traitor?

No, a more rationalized-and colder-part of me thinks. He's not betraying Azera. He's sacrificing for her. Putting her in front of him. It's not really a sacrifice, anyhow. Just...renting me out for use by the enemy. All for Azera.

Thinking about myself as a rental doesn't make me feel any better, even though Poppa's trying to secure both his daughter's and his home's safety.

I curl up in a tighter ball and begin to cry hard, sobs shaking my thin frame. My father, giving me over to the enemy.

"How could you, Poppa?" I moan. "How could you agree to that?"

Again, the rational side of me tries to answer, but I ignore it. I'll rationalize later. Thanks to my father, this war was all for naught.

"Why did you choose this war to begin with, Poppa?" I whisper out loud. "If, in the end, you were gonna give Simon what he wanted, why would you bother protecting me?

"You just agreed to a surrender, Father! Simon won't surrender, you just did! Don't you get that?"

He probably doesn't. He's blinded by the fact that this war won't be over until his daughter's in the enemy hands.

I will never go over to the enemy, damn what my father says.

And where's my mother through all of this? In a city weeks away. She doesn't know what her husband sacrificed.

Or does she? Maybe he contacted her.

The aggravating things about flashbacks is that I can't always see what I want to see, but always what I need to see. It's almost as if my bio-chip necklace chooses what will be necessary for me to know.

I groan and rub my eyes. Then I climb off the bed, pull on my Converse-the only shoes that I own- and go downstairs.

The Everetts are sitting in the living room, talking quietly. They fall silent as I walk down the stairs.

"I am going to walk," I say dully.

"You're going for a walk?" Leo says. "Where?"

I shrug. "I don't care where. I just need some fresh air."

"Are you okay, honey?" Emily asks. "Do you want company?"

"No! I want to be alone!"

I sound really childish. I do. But I don't care much for how I sound, or how I treat anyone. In less than 48 hours, I've been questioned repeatedly, had my father betray me, and there's possible human allies of Simon interested in me. Frankly, a little-or a lot-of alone time is what I need.

"Okay," Emily says cautiously. "There's a hiking trail along the river, if you want to walk along that. It's very peaceful. Just go to the end of the street on the right side of Main Street, right after the second bridge."

"End of street after second bridge," I repeat emotionlessly. "Got it."

"Want me to..." Emily's voice trails off as she reconsiders. "Never mind. You said that you want to be alone. Just-take a coat, okay? It's a week into December, and it's cold out."

I nod once and go back upstairs. I pull on the grey pea coat that Emily bought me a week ago over my black sweatshirt, fumble with the large buttons, and pull the gloves out of the pocket. I rip the tag off of them and slip them on as I walk downstairs. I ignore the looks of the Everetts and step out into the frosty air. Emily's right-it is freezing. From what I heard, winter in Pennsylvania-especially in the Poconos-is long and pretty harsh. Snowflakes swirl around me, melting wherever they land. There had been a snowfall a couple weeks ago, and I could still see small piles of snow where it had been plowed off the roads.

This is the first time since I was five that I experienced winter. My birthplace, Tierra, was not unlike here, but it's been almost ten years. Azeran years, anyhow. In those ten years, I lived in a desert in the middle of the planet. Granted, we barely spent any time on the surface, but it was still warmer in the Training Base than it is here. It doesn't take long for me to start shivering and my face to go slightly numb. My nose doesn't run like a faucet like human noses do. Instead, I lose all feeling to it.

I cross the intersection onto Main Street, which is one long road connected to the highway and consisting of a couple restaurants and a lot of antique shops. Two rivers run through town, and I have to cross over both bridges-and the road again-to get to the street Emily was talking about. The whole walk, tears stream down my face, and I gulp icy air to try and calm myself down.

"You alright, miss?" an old man calls out to me.

I nod, keeping my eyes downcast. The wind blows my hair into my face, and I tuck it behind my ears. The more I walk, the more I try to hide my emotions until I get to this trail, the harder it gets, so by the time I'm halfway down the street, I'm sprinting, tears pouring down my face, turning icy cold by the time they drip from my chin.

I stumble onto the path and keep running, following the clearest route, not caring where I end up. I find myself standing on a rock on the bank of the river. I spin in a circle, trying to get my bearings. I see the muddy path that I somehow ran down without slipping, and I see a house through the trees across the raging river. That's the only sign of life that I see; even the plants are dead. Emily was right: this is the perfect spot to be alone. It's peaceful here.

But the peace doesn't control the wave of emotions in me. I tilt my head back and scream at the Gods, "I hate you!"

Sobs rack my entire body as I continue to pour my anger out at them. "This isn't fair! I'm not even fifteen! Why does this fall on me? Why did you let my father give me over? Why?"

Screaming allows the anger simmering inside of me to over boil. "None of this should be my responsibility! I shouldn't be the object of a war! This isn't fair!!"

My voice reaches a pitch that I never knew it could. "Why is it my fault, Bixan, Daos? Why does this fall on me? Can you answer that, Pera, Lacros? What about you, Tarum? Why must I be damned to this fate? Why me, of all people?"

I sink onto the rock and stare at the heavens, waiting for a sign, though they probably don't hear me now. I'm on Earth. A foreign planet. Far away from Azera, my home.