A/N: Hey, guys, I'm back with the next chapter! The results of The Queen's Quest, my most recent writing contest, have just been released, so make sure to check those out and read all of the awesome entries. Also, I am now an editor WttpdServices, and have started a covers book! Now, without further ado, here's what all of you came for-

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The wind rose up under my wings as I soared effortlessly over the city. I gasped at the breathtaking, bird's eye view of Glaisse's sleek, glass walls and roofs. Raising my right wing, I sailed back the way I had come.

"Watch out!" a grumpy hovercraft driver yelled as I briefly lost control of my Aura, flattening my face against his windshield. I peeled myself away from the glass, muttered an apology which I was sure he hadn't heard over the wind, and continued my flight toward the open window of Icicle Hall. 

"Stupid kids." The driver cursed under his breath as I flew away. I silently thanked fate for the fact that my face was still relatively unknown around Glaisse. It would certainly help with getting around. 

"How was your first flight?" the beaming Ice Queen asked as I landed not-so-gracefully in the windowsill. Unable to stop my momentum, I somersaulted forward onto the ground, landing in a highly undignified heap. 

"Alright, I guess," I said, quickly rising to my feet. 

"Good," she gave me a quick nod. "Because I have something important to tell you," she pursed her lips. 

I made an effort to read her expression, but there were no clues as to whether the news was good or bad. 

"Thorel Myers was just captured on Rhena," she smiled. Yet, even this was just the smallest expression of pleasure. I found myself admiring the perfect balance with which she handled almost every situation. 

"How?" I asked casually, trying not to look too interested, although my mind had instantly gone to anxious thoughts of Aron and the Glitches. 

"He was attempting to travel to Lessaenes using an assumed identity, along with several Rhenans whom we have reason to suspect are affiliated with the White Hot Flame," she chuckled. "Unfortunately for him, the Scientist Clan took notice of the suspiciously large amounts of money leaving his bank account, and were able to put two and two together. He was apprehended at the Liefse spaceport. However, the Rhenans escaped."

I felt my heartbeat begin to slow. 

They were safe. 

"Is he here, yet?" I asked. 

"Yes, he's downstairs, for that matter," my mother laughed. "Sadly, he cannot be punished immediately, because there is no proof suggesting that he actually committed a crime. Being the lovesick imbecile he is, the first thing he asked for was to see Tara." 

"May I...speak to him?" I requested. The second the words left my mouth, I realized that I had made a terrible mistake. What reason did a newly found princess have to see a traitorous general? Surely, the queen would discover where my loyalties truly lay. 

"Why?" she narrowed her eyes. At this moment, I knew that she was onto me. 

"You know, just to talk. I might be able to figure out what side he's on. You know that he'd never tell you the truth," I answered, my voice growing shaky. 

She stared at me for a few moments, her violet eyes seeming to bore into my skull, before her face broke out into a broad smile. "That is brilliant!" she placed an icy hand on my cheek and I nearly flinched simply from how cold it was. "Now, you're starting to think like me. Go down there at this moment!" 

She watched, with some semblance of pride, as I lifted my crimson, ruffled skirt and hurried out of the Sanctum, eager to get away from her. 

It didn't take much effort to locate Thorel. Nearly everyone in the palace was clustered around the tired Chief, who stood in the center of the main hall, pushing through a mob of reporters, palace staff, and curious citizens with determination. 

"Thorel!" I yelled, approaching him, but my cry was not audible over the crowd. 

"Thorel!" I called once again, shoving a cameraman to the side with a small Aural blast and grabbing the general's sleeve. 

"My Princess," he politely bowed his head, before leaning into my ear. "Five minutes. Dungeons. Go," he hissed. 

Nodding, I left Thorel's side, walking briskly around the crowd of media representatives. Fortunately, they were all too occupied with the task of getting good footage of the mysteriously present Warrior Chief to pay me much attention. 

The hallways of Icicle Hall were dark and empty. They were silent, too, except for the faint echo of the hubbub in the center of the palace and the resonating sound of my own footsteps. I slid behind a pillar into a narrower, smellier servant passageway. Lifting an exposed grate in the floor, I tossed the lid aside and jumped into the hole, landing on the floor below with a thunk. I bit my lip as jarring pain shot through my ankle. My high heeled boots certainly didn't make for the smoothest landing. 

Having somewhat recovered from the brief burst of agony, I proceeded to replace the grate's cover with my Aura. 

It was not the easiest way to travel to the dungeon, but with all other entrances blocked off by a slew of visitors, it was the only option. 

For a moment, I stayed put, slightly frightened by the chilling atmosphere. A long, dimly lit hallway stretched out in front of me, lined on both sides with disconcertingly small cells. 

After a minute or two, a lone Aural torch began to advance toward me. Its carrier began to walk faster when he caught sight of me, a wide smile on his face. 

"I found her," Thorel said. 

"Take me to her!" I instantly replied. 

"You're not going to like what you see," he said in a low whisper, his eyes darkening. 

"I don't care," I crossed my arms, unable to truly absorb his words in my eagerness to finally see my sister. 

"Whatever you say," Thorel sighed, a dark look in his eye, as he took me by the hand, leading me forward. 

The prisoners grabbed at the bars of their cells as we passed, staring at us with their wide eyes and hollow, papery faces like a hungry dog stares at a rabbit. I found myself gripping Thorel's hand tighter. 

Finally, we arrived at the end of the hallway, which was marked by a lone cell, slightly bigger than the others and running lengthwise across the pathway. 

In it, I laid my eyes upon what was, perhaps, the most gruesome sight of my life thus far. 

A young woman in a tattered, cotton dress sat on the floor of the cell, breathing hard. Her bare feet were bleeding, as her toenails had been yanked off. It was clear that this injury was fresh, unlike the hundreds of jagged scars that crisscrossed every inch of her pale flesh, marring her lovely figure. 

She raised her head, slowly, and I nearly gasped at the sight of her face. Her left cheek was frozen solid, and her right had been sliced off, revealing the puffy, pink flesh underneath. 

Yet, it were her eyes that caused me to cry out in pain; it was her eyes that ripped open my heart on the spot. 

They were so familiar, yet so strange. Once carefree, they now spoke of a thousand horrors. 

As she looked at me, she managed a small smile, which caused a thousand wounds around her lips to began oozing fresh blood. A single word managed to escape her cracked lips. 

"Vivi."