It had been three days since she'd been captured and every day was the same. They made Julia either drink the blood or drink a concoction made up of a fine red powder. Drinking the stuff was the easy part; her body even craved it.

Then they led her into a room and forced her to kneel in the middle of a huge magical array, with a beautiful serpent coiled around the black lines. Mormo would place a ruby pendant around her neck, then place one hand on her forehead and the other on her heart and chant. It made her insides feel as if they were being torn apart. The pain was unimaginable and Julia wished for it to stop or for death to release her.

This would go on for hours and now and then a memory would spirit her away. Giving her a brief respite from the hell she had agreed to endure just so she could find out the truth.

When Julia opened her eyes, she was no longer kneeling in the magical array. In the background, Julia could hear her herself screaming in pain. She didn't fight the pull into Beatrix's body; anything was better than the agonising hell her real body was going through.

Looking around, it only took her seconds for the memories to flow into her. It was 1853, and she was in the Citadel in Alandria. Julia's body drifted toward Beatrix and the screaming stopped as soon as she melded into Beatrix.

Beatrix paced impatiently back and forth waiting to see Lord Dumah, Chancellors Du Pompadour, and Sakamoto.

A cute little girl with fiery auburn hair kicked a ball at her. Beatrix smiled and kicked the ball back.

"Are you waiting to see my daddy?" the girl asked looking up at her.

Beatrix crouched down. Her eyes swept over the small thing, hazel irises that glowed with plump pink lips. The tiny girl's beauty was staggering.

"Who is your daddy?" Beatrix asked.

"Lord Dumah. He's a big meanie. My mommy is much nicer, you should talk to her."

Beatrix smiled, she could relate to the little girl. Lord Dumah was a wicked knave, if she had not needed his support she would have sought help elsewhere. "Oh, you must be Rosalie Dumah. I know your mommy very well and just between you and me." She whispered into the little girl's ear, "I would rather deal with your mother."

As Beatrix stood up she came face to face with an unruly mop of honeycomb hair and jade eyes that sparkled. She rolled her eyes, "Fancy meeting you here, pixy," and said sarcastically.

Not that she hated light faeries. It was this light faerie that always grated on her nerves.

Oren gave her a beaming smile. "Don't be so mean. You know one of these days you will open up to the fact you love me."

She scoffed at him. "Not in this lifetime, Oren. Now, what do you want? I am kind of busy."

He gave her a smile full of mischief. "Actually, I am not here for you, princess. I am here for this little demon. By the way, a little word to the wise, watch your back, Beatrix. These days your friends can become your enemies just as quick as your enemies can become your friends."

She rolled her eyes again. "Great, more crazy light faerie logic. Oren, when you decide to start talking sense, come find me. Until then keep your light faerie nonsense to yourself."

Beatrix crouched down and gave the girl a warm smile again. "Sweetie, don't go taking everything that one says to heart. Half of what comes out of his mouth is poppycock."

Rosalie caught Beatrix's hand and looked up at her with sad eyes. "I'm sorry about what will happen to you. Fear not; when the time comes, know it will not be the end. You will see him again. Your love for one another will bring you back to him."

Oren yanked Rosalie away and said in a hushed voice, "How many times do I have to tell you; you cannot do that." He looked back at Beatrix nervousness colourer his face. "Ha ha ha... that crazy light faerie nonsense must be rubbing off on her. Bye."

Then he picked the child up and ran off down the hall.

Beatrix shook her head. "I wonder what the heck that was all about."

The grand mahogany doors swung open and Lord Dumah leered at her before stepping aside. She couldn't help noticing the similarities he shared with his daughter. He was just as striking as his daughter. Yet her beauty was warm and southern, the olive tone of her skin, dark eyes and rounded face were all traits she gained from her mother. The Lord had passed on the fiery copper hair, long frame and graceful limbs. However, the girl did not inherit his wintery blue eyes or pale wheat skin of someone from the north.

"Princess Víðarr," his tone was smarmy, and it irked her, "please come in," he said in that unique accent, she could never quite place, that had an English lilt yet a twist of Nordic cadence.

Lord Fyren Dumah was pompous and the type of man you didn't want to get on his bad side. She steadied her nerves and fought back the urge to slap the dirty look right off of his arrogant face. "Lord Dumah, thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

Everything started to fade and Julia slipped away from Beatrix.

Julia lay on the floor, her whole body reverberated with pain, her conscious had still not fully returned. She knew of the two men arguing, but she could only glean snippets of what they said.

"We have been at this for three days, Thorsen, and nothing is working," Mormo said, frustration coming off him in waves. "Every time I try to loosen the bind it only gets tighter. At this rate I may kill the girl. Frankly I say you should just cut your losses, dispose of the brat, and start over."

Julia tensed hearing this. Her mind stuck on something Mormo had said. What he was doing wasn't working; but he was also wrong. What Mormo had failed to realise was; as he tried to loosen the binds on her dark faerie side it had an unexpected effect on her witch's powers. Whatever Mormo had done had in fact loosened the block on that side of her powers.

Julia's consciousness returned and she could hear the frown in Thorsen's voice. "You just don't get it and why should you? It's not as simple as getting rid of some unwanted puppy. It is the bloodlines; there will never be another like Julia."

"Are you trying to say I couldn't do what Fyren did?" Mormo sounded insulted. "Because I beg to differ, I am a better warlock than he ever was."

Thorsen let out a little laugh. "Compared to Lord Dumah you're an idiot, nothing more than some circus act. Make no mistake that man has more power in his little toe than you could ever hope to achieve. He is pure evil, and he even terrifies me. He set this plan in motion long before his daughter was conceived."

Julia was lost; she didn't understand what Thorsen was talking about. How a plan that created her could be set in motion before her own mother was even born. It sounded like the ravings of a madman. Rosalie had said Julia's grandfather was evil, but she did not mention he was insane.

"Well, you and Fyren never trusted me now did you?" Mormo said with an edge in his voice. He gave a short laugh. "Now Fyren is rotting in the ground and I'm all you've got. So if you want me to get the bind off, I suggest you enlighten me on your master plan."

"Oh, don't be such a sore loser, Mormo. Things have always been on a need to know basis; and you didn't need to know," Thorsen said dismissively like he was talking to a spoiled child. "You still don't, but since you have been such a good little dog, I'll throw you a bone. You know of Julia's linage, both the witches' sides and my side."

"Of course I am," Mormo replied put off.

Thorsen continued, "Beatrix's mother was an ancient. Coupled with the secrets that lie in the Víðarr lineage and the Dumah and Malphis lineages we needed all of those to combine. There will never be another like Julia and you will never know how to create another, because those secrets are with Lord Dumah."

"That's convenient. I bet you wish you hadn't killed Selene now don't you?" Mormo said with a snide tone.

"Don't be stupid, Mormo, she was an ancient, one of the first of my kind. I couldn't have killed her even if I had wanted to. She chose to die in that fire with her beloved husband," Thorsen replied as if he was talking to the village idiot.

Julia was desperate to garner more information from the conversation. But her mind started to register the torture her body had gone through and a jolt of pain hit her like a freight train. A moan escaped her lips before she had time to stop it.

"Ahh sounds like my niece is awake," Thorsen said. He turned back to Mormo. "She is special, and family. So never bring up killing her again."

Thorsen walked over to Julia, crouching down. "I am sorry my sweet child that this is so painful for you. If I could take away the pain, I would. Alas, that doesn't seem possible."

She could tell he didn't mean a word of what he just said. She didn't care; all she wanted was the truth. "Who is Beatrix?" Julia demanded.

Thorsen tilted his head to the side and brushed the hair out of her face. Then he smiled at her. "Petit oiseau, it's not nice to eavesdrop." He picked her up in his arms and said to Mormo, "Get the last of the blood and bring it to Julia's room," before he walked out.

When they reached her room, he set her down on the bed. "Are you sure you want to know the truth? You should know there's a reason they keep certain things secret. Once you know there will be no going back. It could destroy the life you hold so dear."

Mormo walked into the room carrying the decanter of blood and handed it to Thorsen. He took it and waved Mormo off.

"I don't care," Julia said with dogged determination. "I'm sick of all the lies. It feels like my whole life is one big lie and I want the truth. No, I deserve the truth."

Thorsen grinned at her like a Cheshire cat then handed her the decanter. "A promise is a promise. I'll tell you but first you need to drink the last of this blood."

She frowned hating how manipulative he was. But she would walk through Hell to get the truth. She took the decanter drinking the blood straight out of it. It was intoxicating and liberating all at once. The huge gaping hole in her soul felt as if more of it was closing.

As she handed the empty decanter back, Thorsen said, "A deal's a deal. Hmmm, where to start?" He paused for a moment; Julia thought he was making a meal out of it. "Beatrix Víðarr was my youngest brother's daughter. So that would make you her cousin."

Julia looked at him very disappointed; she didn't get what the big deal was. It didn't matter they were related.

Thorsen gave her another smile and fished a small golden locket out of his pocket. "You see, Julia, your life was no accident. The same way Beatrix's death was no accident. She had to die in order for you to live and yet she lives on."

Julia shook her head frustrated with his abstruse gibberish. Getting out of bed she walked over to the window. "Can you just stop with the cryptic subtext? You're making no sense what so ever."

Thorsen set the decanter down, got up off the bed and walked over to her. "There is a reason both Damien and Alexander are so in love with you, petitoiseau. Yes, you are exquisite, but you're only a copy of the original. Those strange dreams and the connections you feel are not your own. The same way the feelings those foolish boys have for you are sadly not for you." Thorsen leaned in and whispered into her ear, "You are Beatrix and she is you."

Julia started to shake and backed away from him like he had burned her. Looking at him as if he was deranged she screeched, "You're crazy if you think I will believe that pile of crap. Alex loves me and I love him; end of story."

He chuckled. "Is it though?" He stepped toward her grabbing her by the arm and pulled her to him shoving the open locket in her face. "This is a portrait of Beatrix and Alexander painted in 1870 to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of the happy couple."

Her hands trembled and her entire body was screaming at her not to look as Thorsen dropped the locket into her hand. Pushing past the need to throw the locket on the floor and run away, she slowly looked down and saw a tiny oil painting of herself and Alex. The inscription read: To my beloved Beatrix. My heart and soul belong to you, now and forever. Alexander Griffemort.

She sucked in a ragged breath; it felt like she couldn't breathe and was coming apart at the seams. Her body quaked as she let out a wail that sound like a wounded animal. Tears poured out of her eyes and she dropped the locket, "Lies. I don't believe you. It's all lies. It has to be."

"Petit oiseau; I warned you," Thorsen said revelling in her pain.

The door opened and Damien walked in. He looked at Julia and rushed over to her. "What's wrong, Jules? Did he hurt you?"

She looked at him still trembling and asked, "Is it true?" then backed away from him.

He looked at Thorsen and Thorsen nodded to the floor where the open locket lay. Damien's whole face dropped. "I'm so sorry, Jules, you weren't supposed to find out this way." He gave an accusing look to Thorsen. "We had a deal. How could you tell her like this?"

Then Damien tried to hug her.

"No, don't touch me!" she screamed and backed away from him.

Thorsen had an elated look on his face, enjoying every second. "You heard her."

Damien scooped up the locket and then took a seat in one of the chairs by the bed.

"My story is not finished, Julia. Please take a seat back on the bed," Thorsen commanded.

Her limbs felt like they were weighed down by lead and she had to drag herself across the room. She slowly crawled into the middle of the bed and leaned against the pillows.

Thorsen smile was wicked. "Many people had to die to bring you back. Your former self was not so cooperative to begin with; but when the right incentive was applied she willingly gave her life."

A gasp escaped Julia's lips as a whisper of a memory surfaced and then evaporated before it could fully come to fruition. She knew in her bones that Beatrix gave her life to save Alex.

The flames of injustice and anger sparked inside of her and she narrowed her eyes turning to face Damien. "You played a role in all of this. You knew how much she loved you and you still helped to kill her. You heartless bastard."

Damien didn't even look at her. "You have no idea what I went through," his tone was bitter.

Thorsen interrupted them, "Children let us not bicker. Julia, please don't be so naïve. Beatrix was not innocent in all of this. She ripped his poor heart out and ground it into dust. You talk about love, but that very feeling can drive a person to madness."

"That's rich; coming from someone who's incapable of it," she bit back.

Anger flared in Thorsen, he stood up towering over her. "Don't you dare presume that you know anything about me," he hissed. "That old hag of a mother of yours took away the last person I loved, and she will get what's coming to her. She ruined everything when she turned my brother against me. I overlooked what she did to her own father; but I will never forgive her for what she did to my brother and stealing what is mine."

Hearing this enraged Julia. She felt a pressure building inside of her clawing and biting its way out. "My father chose the people he really loved. I very much doubt my mother had anything to do with turning him against you. If you think I'm just going to roll over like Beatrix and let you lay a hand on anyone I love you're sorely mistaken."

Thorsen lunged at her, as fast as a bullet, grabbing her throat. "And if you think you are any match for me, little girl, you're sorely mistaken," he said mocking her. "That wretched whore was only good for one thing and should've been disposed of after she birthed you."

Something inside of Julia snapped. The pressure that had been building inside of her exploded out of her in a blinding light. Blue, yellow, and green flames shot across the bed, up the walls and around Thorsen's hand was on her throat. He yanked it away shaking it as if he had burnt it touching a hot stove. Then he let out a triumphant laugh. "Splendid, absolutely marvellous! You are much more than we ever hoped for."

This pissed her off even more and the flames grew, engulfing the whole bed. "I swear to the gods if you even look at my mother the wrong way I will make you regret it."

Thorsen clapped his hands together; he looked like a kid opening Christmas presents. "You have our father's fighting aggression in you. Now, do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?"

This immediately calmed her down, and the flames went out. To Julia's amazement nothing was burnt. She was still livid and wanted to tell him to go to shove it but she was also desperate to hear the rest. Julia had put herself through hell to find out the truth. With it in arms reach she chewed back her anger, crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a reluctant nod.