I could remember everything from the night of the burning. From the smell of the smoke as it ate away at the village and everything surrounding, to the blood-curdling screams of my people as they were slaughtered like cattle.

To this day, their screams still rattled me awake at night in a cold-sweat. The flames still nipped at my skin and beckoned me to join them in an eternity of smoke and ash. The cries of Keegan as he was dragged away ran through me like great waves. The fall of my father's body was on constant replay every time I shut my eyes; watching as the spear protruded from his chest, his brown eyes widening in utter shock and fear as he looked to me before his large body slumped to the ground.

The guilt.

The anger.

The sadness.

The fear.

All of it still haunted me to this day.

All of this pain and suffering because of a man who stood no further than a meter away from me. I had thought of what it would be like for me to stand before him for days now. I had imagined meeting him, cursing at him, beating the life out of him. I had also imagined restraining him and then setting him alight, as he had done my family. Other times, I had merely stood before him and screamed at him: why had he done what he had done? But now, I stood before him for real — the man who murdered my family — and I couldn't move.

I watched as he took a seat at the table, his hands stained with blood of my people. Flames engulfed him, but it did not harm him. It was as if the flames were his to control. He was their master. They did not harm him, or else he would put them out. It was if this man was the Devil himself — that fiery, horned, being that our ancestors used to believe in as their God's enemy.

"We're all here?" He spoke.

I flinched. My breath came out in a ragged pattern, a layer of sweat formed within my palms. I closed my eyes, trying to get my breathing under control, but as I closed my lids, only the image of everyone I loved lying lifeless around me was painted against the darkness of my lids—

I felt a hand brush mine; a shoulder press against my shoulder; the warmth of another seep into me. I watched as the dark painting disappeared slowly, and was replaced with a freckled face, warm brown eyes, and a head of messy curls.

Bellamy smiled at me, taking my hand in his and squeezing it tight as he ordered me, "Open your eyes, Quinn. Open them and show them all the warrior you are. Make them fear you. You are ruthless, you are merciless, you are unforgiving—"

Suddenly, his voice transformed into the voice of Anya's. "You are the one they tried, and failed, to kill."

As I opened my eyes, they landed on Tristan. I stood at the end of the table, Anya – somehow – at the other end. Gyda stood behind me, Malakhai on my other side.

Tristan gave me a distasteful look up and down before turning his attention to Anya and speaking, "Who is she?"

I stepped forward, opening my mouth to speak, when Anya cut me off almost immediately, "She's my Second."

I stared at Anya, waiting for her to turn her gaze back onto me. When she did, the woman I had come to know was found nowhere within her features. The woman I had known – the woman who I thought had killed my family now took over Anya. When she looked at me, there was nothing but cold, bitter, ruthlessness on her face.

Tristan held his gaze on Anya for a few seconds longer, before turning his murderous brown eyes back onto me. He clenched his jaw, a snarl escaping his lips as he studied my features. There was no doubt that he saw some shape or form of similarity in me. Malakhai had done so within a matter of minutes—

"Don't you mean your third?"

Cackles escaped the lips of a few of those seated at the table as the comment was made. Tristan wasn't one of those people. His gaze still held mine; his eyes searching for any signs of weakness on my face. But I wasn't going to give him any. Anya had done me a favour in lying to Tristan. It meant that my identity was safe – for now – and I could cut him down without him even seeing it.

I was the first to break my gaze from the Grounder's, looking towards Anya who was seated at the other end of the table. Her eyes were distraught; her entire aura swirling with darkness. It was clear that something had happened to her Second, and it bothered her – deeply.

Before I knew it, my tongue began to speak words: "You would be wise to watch what falls from your mouth, or else, if you continue to speak such immature and disrespectful things, words may never fall from your mouth again."

The man who had spoken stopped in his snickering. "Is that a threat, girl?"

I grinned at him like a wolf, "I don't know, let's try it and see—"

Anya cut in with a strict tone, returning back to the Old Language, "Enough." She glared at the Grounder who had disrespected her; the intensity of her gaze causing him to shrink back in his seat. "I brought you here to talk about war, not to carry on like children."

A female Grounder beside the cowering man spoke, "Then let us discuss the plans of battle."

"Yes, let's." Tristan joined in, turning his devilish eyes onto me. "We wouldn't want a repeat of The Burning and have a survivor of the Skaikru come back from the dead and kill us all."

I held his stare, showing him that the traitor's daughter he thought he killed was no longer the girl he thought he knew. Tristan may have destroyed the girl I once was, but he had also created the woman I was now.

"This is our plan of attack..."

Anya's voice trailed off, everyone else in the room disappearing as I held Tristan's stare. It took all of me not to reach forward right then and choke the cruel life out of him. But I resisted, and reassured myself that when the moment was right, his life was mine to take – just as he had taken the lives of Papa, Mama, Kemp, Celia, Loui, Keegan, and all the other Stalkers.

Tristan may have escaped the flames, but he was not out of reach of the hands of Death. I was going to make sure he burned for the sins he had committed.

Tearing my attention from him, I made myself appear as if I was listening in to the plans of battle as I planned out my own big scheme in burying Tristan for good. I was to use the information they spoke about here to my advantage, and when they – he – least expected it, I was going to strike. 

***

Several hours later the meeting ended. Battle plans were in order and soldiers' positions were ready. The Grounders were to attack at nightfall, when the Sky Kids would least expect, with a stealth party coming in to hit hard and knock them off their feet, before the other hundred came in and finished off the work.

As the last remaining members left the room, Gyda took a seat diagonal from me. "What's the plan?"

My chin rested on my palm, watching as the last Grounder scurried out, all of them following Anya who led at the front. When all was quiet, I stood from my seated position and walked over to the exit. I peered into the stairway and up into the evening light, making sure that there were no unwanted eyes or ears around, especially Tristan's.

Returning back into the room, I stood opposite of Gyda. "You needn't worry what the plan is. You'll have no part of it."

Gyda straightened, "What?" She pushed back her seat, standing so that she wasn't being looked down upon by me. "I will have every part of this, Quinn. I have a right—"

I shot her down almost immediately, my voice echoing throughout the meeting room: "You have no right!" Gyda's lips parted; her brows furrowing in anger. "You are only the wife of a man who suffered, not a wife who suffered alongside him. You've already done enough—"

In a flush of anger, Gyda knocked the cups that were peacefully placed on the table to the ground. Her eyes flared with anger as she stepped away from the seat and walked around the table, closer to where I stood.

"After everything I've done, is that all I am to you?" Her voice leaked with annoyance. "The wife of a man who suffered?"

I stepped forward, "No, Gyda—"

"Good," She cut me off. "Because I am more than that. I can do more than dye your hair, dress you up and heal your wounds. I'm not just doing this because my husband was murdered--"

Gyda stopped herself, seeming to hesitate and debate with herself whether to share the next piece of information that could have ended whatever relationship we had right then and there.

"If not for Keegan then for who?" I asked.

"My half-sister," Gyda responded. "Lexa."

It took me several moments to realise that Gyda meant Lexa... the Commander of all Grounder clans. When I did realise, I was taken aback – very, very far.

"You're..." I trailed off, my words falling short. I then asked, "How? Why are you here and not with her?"

Gyda licked her lips before explaining: "I have reason to believe that Tristan isn't as loyal as he seems to be towards my sister. I used to visit her every few moons when I could, and one night when I was staying with her, I awoke in the night to voices. I followed them and found Tristan conspiring with one of the Ice Queen's closest companions: Ontari."

"How long ago was this?" I questioned.

"Not long – just before your Sky Kids arrived."

I urged her on, "Why wasn't Tristan punished for this?"

Her eyes darkened. "He caught me spying and put the blame on me. I thought I'd get to Lexa first, but it seemed he did and told her that he had caught me conspiring with the Ice Nation. Somehow, he had gathered others on his side – people I had considered friends."

I frowned, "And Lexa believed him? Over her own sister?"

Gyda went quiet, her lips parting. "We've never been the closest, but if she had accepted one voice against several of the Council's, her name as Commander would have been tarnished." Taking a breath, Gyda paused, before continuing on: "So, Commander Lexa had her sister killed."

I stopped.

"I don't understand?"

"Like I said, Quinn, I can do more than dye hair, dress up and heal wounds." Something like pride fluttered over her features. "Lexa and I planned with one another to set my death up. Tiga, the traitorous sister of our honorable Commander, was executed by Titus, a man Lexa trusts most, and her body cremated. Only, the body that was cremated was a fake – it was a body of a woman that had died of a disease on the streets a day before."

Something wasn't adding up.

I asked, "Where was Keegan in all of this?"

Gyda smiled, sadly. Her brown eyes filled with such love and admiration at the mention of her husband, but heartache and agony still poisoned her lovely, brown eyes. "He told me he'd keep his promise," She said, smiling; tears brimming her eyes.

"Gyda, what promise?"

Taking in a breath, Gyda looked to me.

"Keegan and I didn't meet by me healing his wounds all those moons ago. In fact, it was he who healed mine." She paused, reminiscing on the past. "He wasn't a part of all this because we didn't even know one another while this was happening. It wasn't till a few days into my stay with the Tree Crew that I bumped into him. Then, it all happened so fast. We talked, and we talked the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that – until he told me about his past, about you and your father. It was then that I opened up to him about myself, because, you see, we're not all that different."

"Tristan destroyed my life, the life I could have had by my sister's side. It wasn't to the extent of what he did to you and Keegan, but he still did it. And when I told him, he swore to never speak a word of who I was – and he clearly never did. We married a few days later so that if any harm would come to me, I would be under the protection of his name." She stopped, before clarifying: "But do not think that I married him just to protect my head. I loved him, I truly did."

I gave her a small smile, "I know, Gyda. He loved you, too."

At the sound of the door opening, Gyda and I both fell silent. Footsteps patted down the stairs; whistling echoing throughout the concrete hall. Malakhai was at the entrance a second later, biting down on the apple he held and chewing loudly as he stared at the two of us.

When his gaze landed on me, he spoke. "Anya wishes to see her dear child."

At the mention of my biological mother, an alarming thought popped into my head.

"He's going to kill her," I spoke, more to myself than the others.

Malakhai stopped his chewing; Gyda took a careful step forward.

"Who's going to kill who, Quinn?" Gyda asked, her tone cautious.

Malakhai swallowed, "How did you get that from 'your mother wants to see you'?" He looked to Gyda, hoping to find an answer from someone other than the traitor's daughter, but had no such luck as Gyda's attention was focused entirely on me.

"Who was Anya's original Second?" I questioned.

Gyda replied almost instantly, "Lexa."

"I know his plan," I said to Gyda this time. "He killed y – her – and now he's after Anya. He's going after Lexa's most trusted and loved."

As Gyda realised what I meant, her eyes widened as everything began to add up. Tristan had begun with Tiga – he thought he'd removed the only possible heir to the throne – and now he was after Anya.

I stepped forward, fear pumping through my veins. "We have to warn her, Gyda."

The girl hesitated, taking a step away from me and biting down on her nails.

"Please, Gyda. I already lost one mother, I cannot lose another."

Brown eyes met mine, fear encircling them – fear for the future. If word got out that Gyda -- Tiga -- was alive, there was no doubt chaos would erupt. Lexa's name would be tarnished and there was no knowing what the people would do if they found out that their Commander had let a 'traitor' live.

"Trust me, Gyda. She won't say anything."

"Fine."

I let out a sigh of relief before Gyda and I pushed past a confused and star-struck Malakhai and raced to inform Anya of Tristan's sins.

"Can someone please explain to me what is going on?!" Malakhai called from the other end of the hall.

"Not this time, Khai," Gyda responded before we slipped out of the door.