Anya lay awake in her tent. As the leader of Trikru, Anya knew her duty. Once discovered, a Nightblood must be presented to the Flamekeeper in Polis to train with the other Nightbloods. It was how their people chose their commander. Only a Nightblood, and only the strongest among them, could lead. For all her talk of duty, Anya loved Lexa and struggled with fulfilling her duty. She had vowed to keep the girl safe and to help her avenge her family. She still had so much to teach her. But, she knew that in the morning, she would do her duty and take Lexa to Polis, their capital city. After that, she doubted she would ever see her second again. One tear rolled down Anya's cheek as she rolled over and sleep finally overtook her. Lexa couldn't sleep. She was angry. And, as much as she hated to admit it, scared. Once again, her life was taking an unforeseen turn and she had no control over it. She knew what happened to Natblidas. She knew about the Conclave. Knew that only one could survive. She was content with her life in Trikru. With Anya. With Costia. Tomorrow all of that would be gone. And all because of the color of her blood. Unbidden, hot tears began to stream down Lexa's face. It wasn't fair! This wasn't supposed to happen! None of this was supposed to happen! She balled her hands into fists and struck her pillow repeatedly, screaming into it. Lexa allowed herself to fall apart for a few moments, but then she remembered Anya's teaching. She would show no emotion, show no mercy, for none would be shown to her. Determination swelled within her. She set her resolve. She would be the next Heda, the next Commander. This was her path to revenge. As commander, Lexa would have the power to make real change. This is what she must focus on. With her mind made up, Lexa drifted off into a fitful sleep. In her dreams, she saw a dark haired woman, hand outstretched, beckoning her.