Kora couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was playing on the wall, projected onto it from somewhere. She didn't see any projection machines or sources of power. But the images were on the wall, moving, all on their own. They were just there.

Kora held her head back to watch the moving images. They were lifelike, unlike the technology she'd seen that projects moving images where the images look grainy and difficult to discern; these projections were just as clear as if she were there right now.

Which was horrifying.

She saw her entire life displayed before her—the images occupying different sections of the enormous cavern walls, stretching up to the tall ceiling. It was a collage of her life, being played out before herself and Scarlet, who came alongside.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Kora asked.

"I'm seeing my life," said Scarlet.

She was seeing different projections from Kora.

How was that possible?

"How is this possible?" asked Scarlet.

Kora smirked, in awe.

She couldn't believe any of this, none of it. The last few weeks of her life she couldn't believe. No one would believe this.

*****

I left my heart in the ice. In the caves. IN the dark places that I wish I never knew existed. It's where my family was slain, one by one. I watched. I was only seven years old. I barely escaped getting killed myself.

And then I watched again, when I was twenty-six.

*****

Kora's eyes scanned the images, noticing scenes from just this past week—others from her teen years.

One of the moving images, one of the boxes displaying her life, up and to the left, small at the moment. But as she put her eyes on it, it grew larger and larger. It began overtaking the other boxes on the wall.

As it expanded her breath caught.

She saw the elite squad, dropping onto the snow, one by one.

She could feel a cool breeze, even now, as if it were emanating from the stone wall.

She saw her father, stepping into the frame, followed by her mother. Followed by her two older brothers. The image expanded until it overtook nearly all other parts of her life. It consumed them. It was now displaying itself over the entire cavern ceiling and the walls to the left and right, stretched out—then the sound from the moving images began emanating from the pool of water she was standing barefoot in, coming upwards from the surface, perhaps from the deep. Instinctively, she took a step forward in the water, up to her knees.

The sound became clear.

Defined.

Not like noise from a sound machine. Like noise from real life, like something that was actually happening. Kora watched the scene before her in horror.

She forgot about Scarlet, who was standing in the cavern pool somewhere beside her. She forgot about the beasts lurking outside this cave, the ones that had chased them in.

She couldn't take her eyes from the projection.

She could see her father's face clearly—a face she hadn't seen since that day. His face looked exactly as she remembered. Every line near his eyes, on his forehead. His hands were hanging by his side—those strong hands that held her and kept her safe.

For seven short years.

Her mom came into view. She was medium-height and beautiful. Long black hair. High cheekbones. She spoke up to the elite squad:

"You can kill us. It won't stop what we started."

Kora hadn't heard these words spoken before. She'd had a different view. When she was seven, she was behind everyone, hidden in the caves.

Now, she was watching from outside, from some other view.

How was this possible?

But the thought left her as she watched. The elite squad stood abreast, removing their swords from their hilts. Slowly. Taking their time.

For him: Roland.

The large ship flew in from the right side of the projection. Kora had remembered how swiftly it dropped in behind the elite squad, large sails being pulled down so they would stop catching wind. The magnet-powered behemoth hovered about twenty feet above the snowy surface.

It was a dark day.

The snow started falling, small pieces.

Kora could see Roland on the deck of the ship. He looked much younger, filled with the vibrancy of his new command. He vaulted the inner wall and fell with the snowflakes, boots landing down hard on the crunchy snow. Just behind the elites.

They parted down the middle, let him walk through toward Kora's parents.

Kora's father spoke up this time: "You're too late."

Roland didn't hesitate, didn't warn, didn't speak a word though he and her father had known each other for many years. He whipped his pistol from his side like only he could—fast and deadly. Precise aim. He sent a bullet through her father's perfect face—that face that was the ultimate source of solidarity and everything that was right about the world. Her world.

Shattered.

Kora's brothers, both in their teen years, unsheathed their swords and went at the elite squad. While her mother tried to shoot Roland with her own small pistol.

Roland moved his arm, patiently, his gun extended.

He did something that Kora was confused by and hadn't noticed when she was seven, hidden deep in the caves, peeking out only barely. His gun was aimed at Rebecca's head. But, at the last moment, he lowered the gun and shot her through the heart, tearing through the fabric of her scarlet dress. Blood burst from her chest.

Kora squinted against the sight, her face flushed.

Her breathing, non-existent.

She wanted to cry out in pain because pain was coursing through her veins.

She was shaking.

The elite squad made quick work of her brothers, stabbing one through the stomach. Decapitating the other. Kora could barely hold in her stomach. She'd seen this all before. Why was she even watching now?

"Turn it off," she said under her breath, without conviction.

It continued to play.

She watched the elite squad and Roland stare down at the fallen bodies.

Roland looked satisfied that he'd killed nearly the entire Diaz family.

Except for Kora. "Find the girl," he commanded.

The elites entered the ice caves upon the command.

Kora watched Roland's breath as he stood in front of the entrance to the caves, these caves, in the cold. Slightly heightened. Catching it.

"Turn it off!" Kora yelled, her voice echoing around the cavern.

But it was too late. The event was over. The elite squad scoured the caves but didn't find Kora. She was hidden in a cleft in the ceiling. The light from their electric torches swept past her a few times, but she held her breath and her tears and, eventually, they left.

The projection began shrinking back into place, revealing the other moments in her life once more. The sound faded.

Then, all at once, the projections shut off.

Kora stared at the cavern wall, her chin still turned up, waiting. The only sound she could hear now was her breathing—and Scarlet's from a few feet behind her.

Then Scarlet's steps in the water, coming beside Kora.

And Kora saw that Scarlet's eyes were full of tears.

Kora didn't have any words. She threw her arms around Scarlet, and Scarlet hugged back. They cried, here, in the cavern pond, thousands of feet underground.

There was no way out of these caves.

The beasts had nearly killed them.

But all Kora could think about was her family. Her mind wouldn't stop replaying what she'd watched twice now—her family being murdered.

"What do we do?" asked Kora through sobs.

"Die slowly," said Scarlet.

She was right, thought Kora.

This place was a makeshift dungeon. But there were no prison guards, no mess hall, no bars of steel. Only bars of stone walls and soaring heights. Terrors came from the cold, the hunger that had already set in, and the fact that there was no escape.

*****

Few will believe my story, though it's true.

That's the thing about truth. It's not for the faint of heart. It's not always something that makes one happy and cry out for joy. Sometimes, it's for the pirates. Sometimes, like me, it's for the smugglers.

Those deceptive enough to acknowledge the most scandalous of truths.

Truth isn't for tired souls. It's not for cowards.

We all journey, either towards or away from the truth. This is my journey. I'm writing this down because I have a feeling I'm going to die.

I'd like to start it in my twenty-sixth year, during my time in prison. The first prison, the kind you would understand. The kind with metal bars and cellmates. I suppose we should start in the dining hall.

I'm working for the Resistance, sure. But I'm not a sell-out.

I never thought this would happen, trust me.

I don't believe nor pretend to believe in the Cause.

They forced my hand.

I'm just a smuggler, a smuggler will I always be, and a smuggler in my heart, am. This is to the smugglers, the ostentatious, the liars. The only ones honest enough to lie, and deceptive enough to speak the truth.

And, of course, The Pirates.

Yours Truly and Affectionately,

Kora Diaz