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She sounded... desperate.

“You'd like to know... wouldn't you?”

She opened her eyes wide, as if I had hit her back.

Another blow. This time harder, more painful. It was different, as if she wasn't angry at herself or the situation, but at me for the first time.

The high-pitched beeping in my ear hurt.

“Alaister, what have you done?!”

And another blow.

Now she looked at her hands. They were shaking. One of them still holding the vial.

“I know what you did, what you signed.”

She looked up. And this time it was just fear. Pure fear.

I knew who she was. And that finished her off.

“You agreed to the death penalty!” I snapped at her for the first time.

Her eyes glistened.

“You’re just like those people in New York. You belong with them.”

She turned away from me and stormed through the kitchen as if she needed to put as much distance between us as possible, as quickly as possible.

“Stupid, naive boy!” she blurted out and turned away from me, placing the vial on the countertop. “You know nothing about Umbra, believe me.” Hastily, she began emptying the dishwasher. “Think what you want about me.” Her hands became faster, still shaking. “Without my efforts, we wouldn't be here now.”

“You'd do anything for your reputation, am I right?”

I had gone too far.

She jumped up, stormed toward me, and suddenly an invisible force pushed me against the wall, pulled me up, and grabbed my throat.

She glared at me angrily while I tried to gasp for air, holding my neck.

“Don't.”

One step.

“Push me.”

Another step.

“To my limit!”

Now she was standing right in front of me, while I tried desperately to free myself from her invisible grip, gasping for air.

Suddenly, I slid down the wall and air found its way back into my lungs.

Mother stumbled back, looked at me desperately, then ran upstairs.

She would never see that she was blinded. By the Councils, by the glamour of the deceptive system. By the control that had been taken from her in her old life.

I reminded her of her old life. I was the only thing she couldn't control. The only thing that still kept her from shining herself.