I shut my eyes against a different kind of a pain. When I open them again, there are tears there. I can't stop them from spilling over my lashes and onto my cheeks. This time, Brendan doesn't hesitate but takes me into his arms, pulling me against his chest.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles into my hair as the dam opens up inside of me.

None of this makes any sense to me. The conflicting emotions of peace and hatred, of pain and power, keep racing over me. I have no idea what I just did to those creatures, but I know that it wasn't right. It wasn't what Brendan, or even Maxwell, can do. So what exactly happened to me?

"Cali!"

I tear myself away from Brendan as Jemma rushes into the room. She falls to the floor in front of me, grabbing me out of his arms and pulling me into her own. I hold on to her like I'm holding on to reality. The emotions are pouring out of me uncontrollably now, and I can't find a way to pull myself together.

My whole body is on fire and with a flood of emotions, the memories pour in.

I'm five years old, running through the field, my hand tightly wrapped around Brendan's, as he tugged me along. We're both laughing, the air singing with our happiness.

I'm ten years old, wearing one of those uncomfortable dresses I dislike so much. I tug at the hem, pulling it up and down, wishing for my pants and knives. I never was one for formal balls. But then, my dad is there, pulling my hands from my dress and I'm smiling as he spins me into his arms and into the dance floor.

I’m twelve years old, sitting at a desk between Brendan and Maxwell, working on a test. Maxwell is almost done, of course. But I’m having a more difficult time with the history questions. I stare out into space, wishing for a training session instead of lessons.

I'm fourteen years old as I land on the ground with a thud. The rage over my defeat floods through me and I'm on my feet instantly. I run at my opponent, ramming my head into his stomach, and we're tumbling.

"You're not careful enough," I hear my father’s voice as Brendan pins me to the ground. I look over at where Dad stands, watching our sparring. "You telegraph your moves too much, Calista. You have to control your emotions. If anger takes over, you become sloppy and Brendan has no problem disarming you."

I look at up Brendan's grinning face, still inches from mine, and I push him off me. My dad is right, of course, but it makes me that much more frustrated with myself.

I'm sixteen years old and I'm wearing my favorite purple dress. I have finally outgrown my hate for dresses and now love them. I'm excited because it's the Winter Solstice and I've been waiting for it for weeks. Things have been different lately, I've been noticing my power surging much more strongly in the later hours of the day. Winter Solstice marks the longest night of the year and the annual celebration of our queen's birthday. Tonight is the night I get recognized by The Council as officially coming of age as a protector. Brendan promised me a dance and I'm looking forward to it a lot more than I probably should be. I've known for years that there is no future between us, but it hasn't stopped my heart from beating that much faster when he's around.

"Wow," I hear from behind me. I turn around to find Brendan studying me in that quiet assertive way of his that always makes my toes curl.

"What?" I ask self-consciously, running my hands over the material of my skirt.

"I forgot how beautiful you look in purple."

My breath catches at his words as they take their place in my heart. He shouldn't have said it, but now it's in the air between us and there's nothing we can do. I shouldn't really read into his words. After all, we've been best friends since childhood, we should be able to tell each other anything. But this time, his words don't sound like the words of a friend, and it makes all the difference.

"Are you ready?" he asks with a smile when I don't reply or move at his compliment. I nod, the butterflies in my stomach flying out of formation. Brendan extends his arm and I take it gratefully.

"Don't forget, Protector. I got your back."

"Always?" I ask, as I usually do.

“Always," he replies, leading me into the grand hall.

I'm seventeen years old and the war that's been plaguing my land for years has finally found a battlefield. I'm in the middle of the woods, racing through the trees and away from my life. What happened shouldn't have happened. It's not something I should've been able to do, but it's done.

Stumbling to the ground, the closest tree reaches out to help me, but pulls back in fear. I look down at my hands digging into the dirt, as the grass becomes withered, dying right under my fingertips. I yank my hands back, but it's too late. I have taken the majyk from the roots and I feel it rush through me. I stare at my palms as they glow that soft purple that's been following me around my whole life, becoming brighter and brighter as I fully absorb the majyk I've just stolen.

I helped the enemy succeed. I have opened up the barriers that were holding Skazka away from the Shadowlands. I can't take that back and, the scary thing is, I don't want to. The royal family has been in power for way too long, taking from the earth and not giving it back, or to the people. My king has lied to his people for centuries, and I can no longer stand by and let them rule.

"I see you've finally realized your full potential," a voice comes from behind me and I'm on my feet in a flash. I spin around, coming face to face with my father's oldest friend.

"Cornelius, it's not what you think,” I mumble, but I know I can't lie to him.

"It's exactly what I think and I'm glad I don't have to pretend with you anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"It means you are finally ready to know the truth about who you are and where you come from. You're ready to find out just where your majyk's allegiance lies. Who’s power runs through you.”

"I don’t … I don't understand,” I whisper, but the truth is dying to burst free. I have suspected this for a while and now that I feel it in my blood, I know what he's going to say even before he says it.

"Yes, Calista, you do. You understand the darkness that runs through your veins because you and the darkness are one. It's part of you."

I’ve read the history books. I know the story of him, I know the prophecy that says he will rise again in another. But I’ve never believed it. Not even now.

“No.” I stumble back, Corneliuses words pushing through me with uncharacteristic clarity. Everything he's saying, every piercing syllable, falls inside of me and takes root. This is why I've always had trouble with the dark side. This is why I can never control my anger. This is why I stole the majyk and I don't want to give it back.

"I'm not who you say I am. I'm good!" I shout at him, willing that to be true.

"You can't control your nature, child. Your father has tried for years to train you and yet, you took that man's life like it was nothing."

I shut my eyes against what I've done, willing myself to wake up and think it’s all a dream.

"I didn't mean to," I whisper.

"Yes, you did."

I scream as I come back to myself and it feels like my body is being ripped apart into little pieces. I'm shattered on the floor into the tiniest shards of glass and no amount of majyk can ever pull me back together. I remember so much. I remember what I've done. And no amount of pain will ever be enough punishment for who I've become.

I don't pass out like I usually do after the onslaught of memories. I would welcome the dark abyss right now, if only to escape from the truth for a moment. I lie on the floor, unmoving, waiting for the pain to subside. Jemma is holding my hand, with Brendan sitting beside me on the other side.

Taking a deep breath, I push the truth away. I can't examine anything I've discovered right now. Brendan is there, pulling me up to a sitting position, but I can't meet his eye.

"I'm okay. I am,” I try to reassure both of them and myself. I study Jemma, making sure she's in one piece. "Where were you?" I ask, getting to my feet.

"One second I was here, then I was outside in the courtyard. What's going on, Cali? I'm kind of freaking out here."

"I know. I'm so sorry. We need to go and I'll explain on the way,” I say, readjusting my clothing. I'm still not meeting Brendan's eye, but I can feel him hovering.

"She's coming with us." It’s not a question, but I answer anyway.

"Yes. They knew to wait here and they knew what would set me off. I can't risk her life, Brendan."

"Plus, I already decided I'm coming to wherever you're going because I'm not being left out of this again,” Jemma says, hands on her hips in her customary stance. I suppress a smile, because there's no way we can leave her behind now and I hear Brendan sigh in frustration.

"Let me help you pack," I say, "and I'll explain everything."

Brendan doesn't question us as we head toward the closet, but as soon as Jemma steps into the bathroom to grab her toothbrush, his hand is on my arm.

"What's going on, Cal?" he asks, softly.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. What did you see?"

I knew he would ask, but I still don't have an answer. I wonder if he knows who I truly am, or if I'm such a great actress, I kept everyone fooled. Myself included.

"Flashes of memory, nothing concrete,” I reply, giving him a tight smile. "We need to go to Flushing after we drop Jemma off at Maxwell's."

"That's the plan?" he asks, and I almost tell him everything. There's so much trust in him, he doesn't even question what I've decided.

"It seems to be the only clue we have,” I reply, just as Jemma comes back into the room. I glance at Brendan, giving him another small smile and turn to my friend. "Are you ready?"

"Almost."

Brendan runs his hand over my arm, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "I'll wait outside."

I nod, thankful he understands I need a moment with Jemma alone. When he steps out, I turn to face her. She dumps a few shirts on the bed in front of me, before she takes me by the shoulders.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks and I have no choice but laugh because of course she's worried about me instead of whatever is happening. She's taking it all much better than I thought she would, but then again, she's always been a strong one.

"I don't know anymore,” I reply honestly, because it's Jemma. I don't want to hide from her. I need to be honest with someone. At least as honest as I can allow myself to be right now. I take a deep breath and tell her what I know. I know we don't have much time, so I give her the condensed version. When I'm done, she sits on the bed, eyes wide.

"Well, at least what just happened makes sense." That was not what I was expecting.

"Really? That's what you're going with?"

"I'm thinking I'm going to freak out later, but for now, I'm just going with the flow."

A chuckle bursts free and then we both lose it. A second later, we're on the bed, holding our stomachs. It's such a random reaction, but it's exactly what I needed. A shred of normalcy.

"You about done?" Brendan asks from the doorway, and we look over at him, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

"Yes, we're good to go,” I reply, getting off the bed and heading for the door. Jemma grabs her bag, close behind me. We follow Brendan out of the dorm and toward where we left the car. I'm on full alert as soon as we step outside, but there's nothing. No danger that I can feel or see. We make it to the car and Jemma gets in the back without question. We get on the road without a word.

There's a feeling inside of me that I can't really explain as we drive off campus. It's like shutting a door, or closing the book without finishing it. It's a final goodbye for me either way and I know it.

"So explain this to me," Jemma says, breaking the tense silence that seems to have fallen over us. "Every story I've ever read about fey or enchantresses, and I've read plenty, states that they are allergic to iron and technology is not their friend. Yet, you fight with iron swords. I've seen you use technology every day. Both of you."

I'm just as surprised by the question as Brendan is. I glance over at him and he's got a small smile on his lips.

“Well, as Warriors we are given certain majyk to protect and enable us. Iron enchantments are part of our DNA enhancements. Our enemies fight with iron, thus we answered in kind."

"Huh. That's kind of cool,” Jemma replies, satisfied. But I'm not so much. I turn to Brendan, and now I'm the one asking the questions.

"So if we can be immune to iron, why can't the rest of fey? Wouldn't it make things easier?"

"Yes. But iron majyk is one of the sacred ones. The enchantment was placed on our families by the Ancient Ones, generations ago. Your family was the one to find a way, all those centuries ago. It's different now."

"A lot of things seem to be,” I mumble, thinking about my memories and what they really mean going forward. I'm not who I thought I was and I can't really wrap my mind around that fact just yet.

"It's how things work, Calista,” Brendan says, and I glance over at him, trying to decipher his tone. I'm not sure if he truly believes it or just toting the company line.

"Doesn't mean that it's how they should be,” I say anyway before turning to stare out at the window.

“You keep thinking of us as fey that the humans know. You shouldn’t,” he states, and I take that at face value. He’s right, of course; even with my limited amount of knowledge, I still think like a human.

“Oh.” Jemma pops her head between us again before I can come up with anything to say. “Where’d you get the sword? That was wicked cool.”

“Yes, Brendan,” I say, turning to him, “where did you get the sword?”

He groans at my question and I notice Jemma’s confused look as she glances between us.

“Cali here has been asking me that question for quite some time, you see,” Brendan addresses my friend, “and I’ve been telling her she’s not strong enough for the knowledge yet.”

If he thinks he’s earning some points with Jemma at that statement, he’s dead wrong. One glance at her, and I know she’s on my side in this.

“She looked pretty strong to me back there, buck-o. So I suggest you tell her.”

He looks mildly shocked at her words, shaking his head in frustration. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Jemma replies, patting him on the back. “Now you should probably explain.” I want to hug this girl until the cows come home. At first, I think Brendan will continue to stall but instead he gives in.

“You have to remember not to try this. Yet,” he begins and waits for my nod. “We all have sort of a majykal storage place, that’s woven into our defenses by us when we come of age. It’s called mesto and it’s basically just that. A place. A place where we can store anything and everything. It’s sort of in between the reality and majyk. I carry all my weapons in there.”

“That’s definitely wicked cool,” Jemma comments, eyes big. But I just have more questions.

“Do you think that’s where I’ve hidden the relic?”

“It’s possible,” Brendan replies instantly, as if he’s thought of this already. “But it’s highly improbable because it’s not something that could contain the power of Znaniye for this long of a period of time. It’s not that kind of a place.”

I nod in understanding, more of the information falling into place.

“Why don’t you want me accessing it then?” I ask, after a few moments of silence.

“Because when we fight, you’re best if you’re focused on the task at hand and not trying to bring up majyk to reach for weapons. It’s that split of focus we talked about before. Once you don’t have to worry about losing your concentration, it becomes like second nature, and you’ll open your personal mesto with no problems.”

I let that sink in and I have to agree. If I had known about my mesto back in that dorm room, I would’ve tried accessing it instead of fighting. That would’ve put us in more danger. I’m hoping knowing now won’t be a hindrance, because Jemma was right. I am stronger.

Now that I have some of my memories back, I understand Brendan a little better. He's always been a soldier, always done as he was told. Somewhere along the way, I stopped doing that, bringing that stupid chain of events to life with my actions.

The conversation with Cornelius left me confused, but also relieved. I didn't have to follow the rules if I didn't want to anymore. I could be my own person and do my own thing. It's not as if I've been searching for a reason to rebel. I loved my parents, that much I can feel from the few memories I've been able to recover. But at the end of the day, something didn't sit right with me when it came to my kingdom, and finding out I was powerful enough to do something about it was the best gift I could've been given.

I just wish I had all of my memories back so I would know exactly what kind of a person I became after that conversation. What exactly did I do with the relic? I just hope going to Flushing will answer at least some of these questions.

It's about time we had answers.