Sweat damped her forehead as she climbed those seventy-nine steps, her eyes set on the back of the young prince as he led the way. They weren't in a cave anymore, blocks of carved stone with electrical lamps hang on both sides, a dirty carpet which probably had never been cleaned under their feet.

And the sound of music eagerly waiting for her at the end of the stairs.

She made Pheron open the door, with him looking back one before moving the iron handle.

The door cracked open; the music ceased. Rosalynde knew where she was, the first time she'd dipped her toes in the dark waves of Verity's history.

The Imperial Opera, or what was left of it. After the explosive gem detonated, with half roof bursting into flames, several restoration attempts had been made, but winter had halted their work. Now the theatre had been disused.

There shouldn't have been a soul roaming that place.

She looked back, eyeing the door one more time before straightening her spine. Pheron was nowhere to be seen. But she didn't need him now, she knew how to hunt him down.

Rosalynde stepped on stage.

A single, thundering, applause broke into place.

"Did you know that Verity held its first meeting in the underground gave you came from?"

Rosalynde's froze. She didn't dare turn around, because if she did, then everything would have been over. It would have been like waking up from a beautiful dream, a dream she didn't even know she was in.

The voice continued; footsteps responded threw out the venue.

"A member was the director's son. It was easy to take the keys, make duplicates and hand it out to the members. But there was too much movement here, alas, they then decided to move their base under Daunting Cathedral. Quite smart, don't you agree?"

Rosalynde flexed her hands, the strain making her shiver under her gloves.

"For a couple of years Verity promoted equality throughout the classes, even if over half of the were of high origin. The pamphlets you found was just one of many that were distributed around Lowen. But then, seven years after their foundation. Verity was blown away, like a leave swept during a storm."

"La Revon," was all Rosalynde said.

"Haven't you ever wondered how her majesty came into power? Amelia Des Reslow was the daughter of a count. A title many considered not worth of the royal seat. And yet, she was able to become the noblest woman in this empire."

Veritas came to a stop right behind her.

"She sold her friends to the Crown in exchange for power. Convincing the council that Verity was soon going to rise to arms against them with the subject's support."

The dream ended. And Rosalynde turned around.

"And what does all this have to do with you, Katherine?"

Apostle V smiled at her name. "Aren't you at least a bit surprised?"

"It was you," was all Rosalynde managed, her mind shattering whatever fond memory her conscious kept throwing at her.

"What did I do?" she asked, voice filled with vile innocence.

"Mary Clark, you were the last one that got close to her before she poisoned herself."

Katherine grinned, a sinister smile, one Rose had never seen on her before. "Ah! That, It was easy enough to slip the poison under her fingers as you and Grey flirted with each other. Who knows? Had you not shilly-shallied maybe you would have noticed."

"Don't play coy with me."

"I'm not. You know. I never thought you would uncover so much. You would have been a great addition to our cause. I guess bloodline really don't lie. Like father and daughter. Both extraordinary."

That last part made her façade crumble to oblivion.

She picked herself up, ramming into who she once dare call friend. They hit the floor together as one, mind in a frenzy as she started hitting with whatever strength there was left in her body. Fists rained on Katherine chest, before in the heat of the moment she took something from under her vest, a metal sound clicking in place as she cocked the silver gun right under its owner's chin.

"I guess talking about daddy dearest is still labelled as sensitive topic?" she asked.

"You don't know the half of it." Rosalynde sneered.

"I don't? Wanna try again?"

"Not before I tear you apart and skewer your bones over the fire."

Katherine tsked, a flash of annoyance crossed her face as she stood up. Knowing there was no strength left in her opponent's body to classify her as danger. "Pharah didn't bat an eye when I told her I was bringing this to you." She twirled the gun between her fingers. "If feels liberating, telling you everything I mean."

"Wanna clear your conscience before ending me? You didn't exactly choose the right person for the job."

"Oh, won't kill you. I didn't lie when I said I considered you my friend. When we first met I didn't know who you were. But still deep down I hoped we could become allies. Just like out father before. Had Pharah not been in the picture – perhaps you would have assumed command instead of me."

"Don't you dare say her name-"

But the other wasn't done.

"Our fathers were friends. Your father was the only one that wept mine when he was killed. And even after everything that happened he still didn't abandon me. He gave me an education, he made sure my mother did not suffer upon her death, and yet he gave me to that witch just like he did with you."

Rosalynde's breathing halted for a moment as her mind processed that new information.

And then it dawned at her. She saw her persona, what she'd been up until now – shatter into pieces before turning to dust.

Yes, she'd noticed the resemblance, but there had been nothing more to that. He'd been a pillar, if she could even call him that. But something deep inside her didn't struggle to take the information to heart. It was like she'd always known it.

The man that ran the empire from the shadows of the Crown, he who with her majesty had founded the Apostles twenty years ago to maintain peace and order throughout the ranks of the empire.

Her father, Regulus Aurelium.

"Did you ever wonder why he was the first one that discovered you all those years ago? When the villagers left you starving in your own home? He always kept an eye on you, from distance, yes, but never really letting you out of his sight."

Her world started spinning, she barely had the strength to keep her eyes open before Katherine's shadow loomed over her once more.

One step ahead, always one step ahead. There hadn't been a day where she could have won. Her mind reviewed all that had taken her there. The Black Tide, the death of Claire Adeline, the empty warehouse of Mary Clark, the meeting with the Seekers, her illegal.

She'd never stood a chance.

Rosalynde stared at the person who alone had turned to dust her whole life – an identity made by lies and cover-ups.

A new kind of emotions swam through her.

Regret, sorrow, she'd never mourned the girl she once had been. That child had died up alone in those mountains. Moving forward was the only thing she had ever done, the past? How magical would have been to lock everything away and drown in a calming numbness.

"Your target was never actually Pharah."

Katherine's gaze softened, and shook her head. "Pharah is the only Des Reslow who deserves to rule, but as that woman's daughter, I can't allow her to live," she pursed her lips before adding. "You're taking it well, I half expected you to start screaming, blaming him for everything."

And Rosalynde would have just done that if she'd had the strength.

But she was lost, and there was nothing more left to say. She briefly wondered if Grey was all right, or if he'd been outplayed just like she'd been.

"I'll make you pay." She too didn't even believe her words.

"I'm sure you will, but for now I need you somewhere where I know you won't cause damage."

In the distance, a loud rumble of approaching voices was heard. Guards, called by Katherine no doubt.

Rosalynde didn't say a word as Katherine summoned Pheron, inviting him on stage.

She clapped him on his shoulder. "I thank you for your service up until now. And don't you worry, I'll make sure you have a better funeral than the one you should have deserved." Veritas raise the gun – her father'spresent – and smiled as she planted a silver bullet right in his chest.

Pheron Des Reslow died there, on the cold stage of an Opera that had become a closed off cemetery. He didn't make a sound as his back hit the ground; his blonde hair soaked in his own blood, absorbing it like a sponge.

Rosalynde didn't she struggle as Katherine thew the gun in her lap, yelling at the approaching guards to apprehend her under the accusation of imperial murder.

Who could have thought differently with her own gun grazing her fingertips?

The last thing she heard in the distance were the shouts of the guards as they threw her in a prison carriage, the sound of chains rattling as the iron marred her skin, and the dark chimes of Daunting Cathedral.

She was lost, and she was never going to be the same.

Rosalynde Steel had died, or better yet, had never truly existed.

She was dust that swept the wind.