"You should visit more often," Father had chided her.

She’d laughed. "Nothing ever changes here." She’d kissed him on his forehead, and promised to return soon. But there had been trysts with Bitaal, and services and debates to attend, and after the last debate the Peacekeepers had come.

Protestors were the first to disappear.

She ran to the home she'd known as a girl. Most of the structure was atrium, open to the suns, leaving barely a shadow in which to hide. She called for him, knew it was too late, kept shouting.

Now, nothing would ever be the same.