Many people might have embraced their long-lost father, crying and spluttering about how much they loved and missed him.
Others might have raced up to the podium and knocked the voice augmenter out of his hand, shouting abuse and obscenities.
Some might have run to the nearest Healer to make sure they hadn't gone insane.
I just stared, transfixed and rooted to the spot, gazing up into the very living face of my father.
I almost didn't want to believe it. But the family resemblance was unmistakable. The man had the same fierce hazel eyes. The same auburn hair sloping across his forehead, tinged with hints of gray. That tall, imposing physique that could twirl Mama or me in the air without a hint of strain.
Father didn't die. He abandoned us. Presumed dead, indeed.
Why? For this barbarism? To create monsters?
Like all Wizards, he'd dedicated his career--his life--to the pursuit of knowledge for the betterment of society. Yet there he stood, answering questions about demonic beasts like some sort of god. Flagrantly betraying every oath he'd ever taken.
"Your father is going to save us all," Peter murmured in my ear. "He wants you to join him."
My breath caught and bile rose in the back of my throat. "What did you say?" I exclaimed. "No way! I'll never join the Fireborn."
"The Gatál have great power," Peter replied. "Without the Fireborn, the enemy will march all over Paxus. It will be the end of the Free World! Is that what you want?"
"I'll never help Father make those monstrosities," I sneered, blocking out flashbacks from my fiscas. "I'd rather die a thousand deaths."
"Liselle--"
"Never!"
I strode away from him, unable to comprehend my eyes and ears. The Risa lived in harmony with nature. Risan Wizards strove to understand our place in the natural order, not destroy it.
Father defied everything that his class and his people believed. He'd broken his Wizard blood oath, for which the penalty was expulsion from his class and a long term of imprisonment.
Yet he'd committed his crime to the tune of jubilant cheers. I couldn't stand the sight of him. I clenched my fists, willing myself not to go up to the stage and punch him.
I can't believe he abandoned us for this lunacy!
When Peter approached me, I growled at him to go away. He placed his hands on my shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. Mama did that whenever she wanted to console me.
From him, it just hurt. Peter knew. He must have known about Father being alive. And he kept the truth from me.
"Just give him a chance. It's not what you think."
"You have no idea what he's done," I said, shrugging away from his touch. "How he destroyed our family. If you did, you wouldn't dare say that."
He furrowed his brow. "What happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
My thoughts traveled back a year ago when we'd held Father's funeral. I'd never forgotten Mama's pale, grief-stricken face as she walked aimlessly through the Risan temple in Halden. She looked like a ghost. Bragda and I had to make all the necessary arrangements.
A few days later, she'd disappeared.
The university told us she'd fallen off a cliff on assignment while studying the Healing Arts in Khatán. Some said it was an accident, but Mama was always so careful.
Others said it was a suicide.
Bragda and I both thought Gatál terrorists had killed her and made it look like a suicide. For over a year, my sister and I lived in terror, wondering if we'd be next.
Father had let us suffer in anguish. No news, no nothing.
Just so that he could study his demonic lab rats.
A part of me wished he had died. The selfish bastard. I could have forgiven him for that.
The Gatál hadn't killed him. That meant they hadn't killed Mama either. Her death wasn't an accident, which left only one option.
She had killed herself from grief. Something the Risa never did because it severed their ties with Mother Nature. That was how badly Father had torn her soul apart with his treachery.
If Bragda hadn't adopted me, the Ministry would have had no choice but to place me in a random household until I turned eighteen.
Would Father have stood by and watched our family fall to ruin?
It made me sick. Angry. Furious.
Of course, Peter had no way of knowing all that. But I couldn't tell him. Not then. I wasn't ready. My soul sank in upon itself and curled up into a little ball of anguish that ached inside my chest.
"He's alive, Liselle," Peter whispered in my ear, so close that his breath tickled my neck. "Won't you give him another chance?"
"No, not after what he's done."
Pushing my way through the crowds, I made my way to the bar. I reached into the bag and slammed a silver coin on the wooden counter.
"I want to get drunk," I growled at the bartender. "Is this enough?"
A middle-aged Human male with a giant potbelly and a stained apron raised a quizzical eyebrow at me. He gawked me from head to toe and gave me a nonchalant nod.
"That should do, white ribbon," he said with a wry smile.
Before the bartender could take the coin, Peter smacked his palm on top of it. "She's mistaken. A flight of fancy, I'm afraid. Come on, Liselle."
"Hey, don't--"
"A bronze piece would get you drunk," Peter said. "Have you ever had alcohol before?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Peter gave me a pointed look.
"No," I said in a petulant tone. "But I can decide for myself."
"I have nothing against you drinking." Peter slouched against the bar with a smirk. "Just not here, not now where it's unsafe." He bent down to my ear again. "It's my job to protect you."
"Would you stop hissing in my ear, please?" I said as I nudged him away.
"Even a rascal like me doesn't drink here. Neither should you."
Peter tossed my coin back to me, which I barely caught.
Shaking my head, I entered the rabid crowd. It boggled my mind how Father had managed to captivate the audience with his pseudo-intellectual chaff.
Use some big words and wow the masses, why don't you?
Father's eyes landed on me and twinkled in recognition.
I froze.
In that instant, he fell silent and stared at me. I held his gaze. Would he stumble over his words? Jump off the dais and swoop me into a hug? Beg me for forgiveness?
If he had, I might have granted it.
But the moment passed. The blind fool woke from his daze and spouted his scientific propaganda as though I were just another stranger in the crowd.
I meant nothing to him.
After he'd finished impressing everyone with his jargon, he strolled backstage with the demon. The listeners cheered and gave Father thunderous applause.
He returned to the stage, grinning like he'd won a prize. I scowled at him. When our eyes met, disappointment stretched across his face, pulling it taut.
Never breaking eye contact, he said, "We need bright minds to join our cause." His eyes swept the audience. "Brave souls like you. Who's with me?"
The crowd erupted into jubilant cheers. My heart turned to ice.
No way. I'll never join you. I've seen where that leads.
I grabbed Peter by the lapels of his leather jacket. "Bring me to him. Now. I want to give that...that...arrogant fool a piece of my mind."
He furrowed his brow. "Are you going to join the Fireborn?"
"None of your damned business," I said. "He's my father, and I want to see him."
That little muscle spasmed in his jaw again, and he led me through the throng by the hand. "Fine, come with me. Please don't embarrass me in front of my boss, though."
"What?"
Peter nudged me toward a quiet corner. "Master Alta is a Defender bigwig. He sent me to protect you at the induction ceremony."
"A lot of good that did!" I said, rubbing the wound that still ached. "You could have told me."
"That's why I invited you here tonight." He squared his jaw. "The Fireborn have been a strict secret until now. We needed the enemy to think he was dead. This project is his brainchild."
Apparently, the only child that matters.
"Liselle, please!" Peter took my hand and drew me nearer. "I understand all about hating one's father, but he made that sacrifice to protect you. To protect us all. This will secure our victory!"
"Victory? At what cost?" I asked in an indignant tone, pointing at the stage. "If you think I'm ever going near one of those creatures, you're insane."
"You're better than this, Liselle." He ran a hand through his short hair. "Don't focus on their looks. Imagine what you could do as a Fireborn!"
"What I could do?" I stared at him, aghast. "You aren't seriously suggesting--?"
"This is how you protect your sister, Liselle." He pointed at the stage. "This is how you protect yourself. Your country. No one will attack you or your family ever again. You'll be safe."
"You want me to become one of those things?"
"Liselle--"
"I'm a servant of nature, and I have my oaths to uphold." I shook my head. "Unlike Father, oaths matter to me. I will protect my sister, but I'll find another way."
Never would I let my fisca come true. Never!
"Your father is brave. He's a genius." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "His creation will save thousands of lives. Isn't that what the Risa do? Save people?"
"If that thing had broken loose, it would have killed everyone."
"The Fireborn aren't things. They're people, sentient beings like you and me."
"It picked up a chaffing log and snapped it in half," I exclaimed. "That does not abide by the natural order."
"Neither do the Dragonborn armies. We need parity with the Gatál if we are to have any hope--"
"No creature should enjoy such power without a force to keep it in check. That's a fundamental principle Father has sworn to uphold."
"War doesn't abide by natural law," Peter retorted.
"Does this new master race have a predator? Or even a weakness?"
"We need strong Fighters in the war against the Gatál."
"The Fireborn could defeat the Gatál," I said. "But what then? They can also defeat everything else. Including us."
"The Fireborn won't kill us because we're all on the same side."
"What if we stand opposed one day? What if the Fireborn turn on us?"
"They are us. Normal people like you and me, transformed into something greater."
"They're also sentient like us," I insisted. "That means they determine their own destiny. The Fireborn aren't just machines or pets that you control."
"You're just afraid of what you don't understand."
I took a deep breath and coughed on the bilious smoke swirling in the air.
"I need some fresh air. This place reeks of decay and death. If you'll excuse me..."
I strode purposefully towards the nearest exit and breathed in several gulps of cool, fresh, autumnal air.
With a sigh of relief, I relaxed in the quiet stillness until the door opened with an ominous creak.