Cale's voice sounded more exhausted than ever, but there was a new determination in it. "It wasn't Zavier. It must have been somebody else. So I need you to think back to whom you saw when you first woke up, so to speak. When you first started remembering again."
Lysandra thought. She reached back as far as she could, past Zavier trying to Erase her memory, past her father's arrest. Past the words of her father, which she'd just recalled. Past Nereus cornering her in a dark closet.
She held one image somewhere deep in her memory, an image of her father, with agony etched on his face, blood on his mouth, hands outstretched. Beside him a man with dark hair and bright, unnatural eyes, laughing and dragging him away. Her sixteen-year-old self crouched just a few feet away, gasping for breath
