The dining tent was awash with the furious sounds of everyone's voices. It was the embodiment of fear. Every voice in this tent was afraid. We thought we had more time.

I stared at Guinevere, who sat across from me. The soiled soldier's coat was replaced with a fresh blanket, and her face had been wiped clean. She clutched a bowl of warm soup in her hands. I had never seen her dainty fingers so dirty in my life. Dark dirt was imbedded under the nails, and angry red scratches covered the backs of her hands.

As much as Guinevere had been quite the nuisance since I had been within the palace, I had to respect her courage to travel through the country alone and wounded to find us and warn us about the army. Without her, we would have died, and our ravine would have turned into Ild Vann, just as Arne had said.

The forceful clearing of a throat began to draw everyone's attention, and shushes rang out amongst the crowd. Zora was stood at the back of the tent in front of everyone. "As many of you have heard, and the reason we have collected you all here is to discuss our plans now that the Ithican army is coming."

A few gasps rippled amongst the crowd. For some, this was their first time hearing of the news. After Guinevere had told us, Zora had called an immediate meeting in the meal tent.

"The Ithican army is only a day's ride away, and thanks to Princess Guinevere, we will meet them with force. Tomorrow we have war."

The meal tent erupted in sound once again, but I didn't hear any of it. War? I thought we would move camp like they did when Heinrich attempted to ambush their first headquarters.

I wasn't ready for war, a war they would expect me to lead them into.

I blinked a few times as Zora's face focused in front of me. Her hand was on my shoulder, and she was calling my name. Apparently, she had been trying for a while. "They need your encouragement. Say something to them."

I was directed to where Zora had been standing. I wanted to speak and tell them that everything was going to be alright, that we could do this, that we would win, but how could I say that if I didn't believe it? How could I expect them to do this if I couldn't even do it?

"I-I'm sorry, I can't," I whispered and tried to move to the side of the tent to make my escape.

Zora grabbed my arm on my way out, halting my movement. "Where are you going?"

"I can't do this, Zora. I can't go into a war, let alone lead them into a war." I looked back to all the faces staring at me, staring at their hope. I felt like a fraud.

"Yes, you can, Amberleigh," she said sternly. "Stop letting your fears dictate you."

"It's not that simple, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm more of a danger to them all, and well, I don't want to kill anyone."

"You do know what you are doing. You've been doing it since you first stepped foot in Erivale. I can't guarantee you won't kill anyone. This is war, and war comes to us hand in hand with death, and some people just need killing."

I wasn't sure if I believed any of her words at that point.

I didn't say anything for a while, and after a few minutes, Zora tugged on my arm, "Come on." I didn't have much of a choice other than to follow her back into the heart of the tent. Zora directed me to sit and then beckoned forward Gerard, another Faun named Sten, Sven, the Liltu woman chained with Arne, Arne himself, an Ursa I had never seen before in the camp, and a woman decorated in shells – I assumed a Syreni. They stood before me in a fragile line.

"Amberleigh, please close your eyes." Zora moved to stand behind me. I felt her fingertips as she held my head. They were producing a faint crackle of magic that tickled my temples where her skin met mine. I took one last look around the tent and at the faces lined up before me before closing my eyes.

There was one breath, two, three, before the darkness behind my lids changed.

A masculine hand was gently cupping the face of an Elven woman. A rough, calloused thumb tenderly rubbed her cheek where a tear connected the constellations of freckles on her skin. Her chapped lips were parted in a wide, loving smile to the young baby clutched in her arms.

Not even a few minutes old, the child had a mess of curling black hair atop his head. Tawny wings were peaking above his shoulders, and pointed ears were firmly visible. It was Octavius.

I was caught up in the bright gaze of the newborn Octavius, his bright green eyes twinkled with curiosity even at such a young age.

The scene around me began to shift, but his eyes never changed, even though he was older now. Maybe three- or four-years-old Octavius stood next Arne, who was kneeling down, a firm arm wrapped around the young boy. Tears leaked down Octavius's face as he looked towards the street where his mother was being dragged away in the arms of an Ithican soldier.

"Disgusting whore!" Someone spat at her as she was dragged by.

"Absolutely filthy, birthing a half breed," another sneered.

Just as she was slammed into a cage in the back of a wagon that reminded me of Nealon, the world around me changed once again.

I was in the water now. A shell necklace was clasped around my neck. I must have been in the Syreni woman's memory. Laughter bubbled around my ears as the woman broke the surface of the water with her hand, causing a splash to wash up and over a Syreni in her water form.

I nearly gasped as I looked at the Syreni, the blonde hair and cerulean blue eyes that matched the water she swam in. Except it wasn't her. It wasn't Leda. An ache grew in my heart as I faced a near replica of the woman I had grown to think of as a sister.

Together the two Syreni looked towards the beach where they beckoned a young minotaur forward. He couldn't have been more than thirteen.

I was pulled out of the memory just as minotaur began playfully splashing the two Syreni.

The sunshine and sandy beach were replaced with a tent warmed by a massive cooking fire. I recognized the rebel insignia on the leather armor the individuals wore. Every race was sat around the table, laughing and sharing food. As a metal pitcher was passed across the table, I caught a glimpse of the memory owner's face – it was the Lilitu woman.

The star speckled sky outside of the tent's doors soon blossomed to encompass the entire sky as the memory shifted to someone else's. This memory was familiar. I had seen it once before, the first time I had seen Zora at Nealon's execution.

Once again, it showed the rebels sat around the fire, discussing their hopes for their future and Arne with Octavius hoping for equality for mixed children. This memory seemed to last a few seconds longer, and at the very end, I caught a glimpse of the owner's hands and wrists where I could see a familiar set of intricately designed metal wrist cuffs.

As this memory faded, another familiar memory blossomed out of its remnants, and I was once again reliving the memory of the original council. The memory I had painted in my first few weeks in Erivale. Watching it over again, I noticed the way the massive Ursa glanced towards me, or whoever I was. There had been another figure at the original meeting that was long since forgotten to the rest of Erivale.

The next memory was in the palace ballroom. A large crowd of people was stood before the familiar stage. The woman on the stage wore a flowing white dress with a metal bodice. She spoke with confidence and vigor, and the crown on her head made it unmistakable that she was a true queen.

With a start, I realized it was me. I was viewing myself through Sven's memories.

The world around me blurred, and I was once again watching myself, this time across a dirt road. The memory skipped ahead to me, desperately trying to help the memory owner get out of their chains. This was Gerard's memory.

I gasped as the memory shifted once more to the first vision memory I had in Erivale. The young Fauns in the glade. Tears pricked at my eyes as I remembered the happiness that saturated the memory. As the vision slowly faded to black, the words, "help us" once again rang in my ears.

I opened my eyes, and the world slowly clarified around me, as it did so did my heart and mind. This is why I was here to help all of them. They deserved to be treated fairly and to have happy memories and experiences like that again. I was here because I wanted mixed children to be accepted and their families to stay together; because Fauns and Satyrs shouldn't be sold into slavery; because the waters should be filled with Syreni and Nereides swimming with Elves, and Minotaurs, and Ursa, and everyone else. I was here because Erivale had grown corrupt.

"Without even knowing Sten or what happened to him or knowing Gerard's history, you charged in to help him. I know you are afraid; we all are. But only the kind of soul that can risk themselves to save someone they have never met could lead us into battle to fight for the future we have been dreaming of. A world where Sten can return to his Glade to watch his own calves there. A world where Octavius and the other hybrid children will be accepted. A world where magic runs free and equally amongst everyone," Zora said.

"We need you, Amberleigh," Leon eventually said. I was surprised to hear him speak. I hadn't heard much out of him since our travels here to camp. "Vihtia didn't give you a sword expecting you not to use it."

At the conclusion of the meeting, I was swept up by Soren and Gerard, who ushered me into the familiar tent where we had all spent many hours plotting rebel movements. Sven, Ulric, Arne, Tamas, Ogen, and Leon were quick to follow. Zora was the last to enter the tent with a secure arm wrapped around Guinevere's waist, helping to keep her steady.

Planning for the battle began immediately.

Guinevere pointed out on the map the route that the army appeared to be taking and where she had last seen them. Arne argued that the surprise factor was our best bet. Ideally, we should intercept them before they even reached the camp where they are least expecting a camp of rebels to be.

As Arne spoke, I couldn't help but stare and remember the sight of him and his wife after Octavius's birth. The memory was still so fresh in my mind.

"I agree, a surprise is ideal," Zora said.

I felt a seed of concern in my stomach. "Should we give any of their soldiers a chance to defect before the battle begins?" Everyone's eyes slid to me. "Not all of them are here willingly or may not understand everything that is going on or the depth of the corruption. Should we not at least give them a chance to make their own decision before we kill them all?"

"We lose all aspects of surprise at that point." Zora challenged.

"Everyone else can stay hidden, I can talk to them," I said quickly.

"No, no, too risky." Zora brushed me off. "We can't risk your death."

"They won't kill me, at least not yet. They still want my power," I challenged.

"She does have a point," Soren said. "Mercy can be a powerful tool during a war."

Zora sighed and pushed her hair off of her face. "Fine, then what do you suggest. Just stick her out in the middle of the field alone?"

Everyone glanced at one another and shrugged.

"Why not? They may think I'm alone."

"They won't think you're alone. They're not stupid. No, you would need at least a few with you. A few known rebels too. They don't know exactly how big we are, maybe we could fool them into thinking we are quite small."

We all mulled over Zora's words.

"We could have the rest of our fighters split into three groups. One on the right and left hidden in the tree lines and the rest higher up along the ridge," Tamas suggested.

"Yes, that could work," Zora said slowly, still lost in thought.

"For any of this to actually be worth it, you realize Amberleigh will have to be the one to kill Queen Luciana." A heavy silence suddenly fell over all of us, and I stared at Guinevere in shock for the second time today. "Amberleigh was coronated Queen and then ran away from her people. Hardly any of them recognize her as legitimate. That leaves the next option."

"Legitimacy by challenge," Soren mumbled.

"Excuse me, what?" My voice was tight with stress.

Soren sighed. "It is an ancient tradition. It hasn't been practiced in over one hundred years. But Guinevere is right. For Amberleigh to be legitimate in the eyes of the people and the United Nations council, she will have to defeat Luciana in battle and essentially take the crown."

And just like that, I had to kill my mother.

Author's Note:

Only four more chapters left in Erivale: The Lost Princess!!